"Certainly not," Cai a.s.sured her. He mused. "It's odd now; but I've always regarded that parrot as rather a dull bird: though of course I've never hinted that to 'Bias--to Captain Hunken."

"He wasn't dull this afternoon," a.s.severated Mrs Bowldler. "Oh, not by any manner of means!"

"Has he ever--er--annoyed you in this way before?"

"Never, sir."

"Has the boy ever heard him use--er--this kind o' language?"

"Which if you understand me, sir," explained Mrs Bowldler still more delicately, "the remark in question would not apply to a male party: not by any stretch. You may answer me, sir, that--the feathered tribes not being Christians--they don't calculate who's listening, but behave as the spirit moves them, like Quakers. To which I answer _you_, sir, that makes it all the worse. As it transpired, Palmerston was at the moment brushing down these very stairs, here, in the adjoining: which some might call it luck and others again Providence. But put it we'd happened to be cleaning out the room together, I must have sunk through the floor, and what would have happened to the boy's morals I leave you to guess."

Cai had to allow the cogency of this.

"As a matter of fact, sir," Mrs Bowldler continued, "I sounded Palmerston later. He declares to me he has never heard the creature use any bad language; and I believe him, for he went on to say that if he _had_, he'd have mentioned it to me. But you see my position, sir?

It might even have happened with you two single gentlemen in the room.

. . . Stay another twenty-four hours in the house I will not, with the chance of it staring me in the face."

Cai rubbed his chin. "I see," said he after a moment. "Well, it's awkward, but I'll speak to Captain Hunken."

He did so, almost as soon as he and 'Bias had gloomily finished their supper--a repast which largely consisted of odds-and-ends (the _debree_, in Mrs Bowldler's language) of yester-night's banquet. Each, as he ate, unconsciously compared it--such is our frail humanity--less with the good cheer of which it should have been a reminder than with the fresh abundance of Mrs Bosenna's larder. A bachelor table and bachelor habits are all very well--until you have tasted the other thing.

To talk of the parrot, for which 'Bias had an inexplicable affection, might be awkward, as Cai had promised. But it was less ticklish anyhow than to broach the subject uppermost in the minds of both; and Cai opened on it with a sense of respite, if not of relief.

"By the way," said he, lighting his pipe and crossing his legs, "I had a chat with Mrs Bowldler before supper. She came to me complainin'

about"--(puff)--"about your parrot. It seems she has taken a dislike to the bird."

"Finds his talk monotonous?" suggested 'Bias after a pause, during which he, too, puffed. Strange to say, he showed no vexation. His tone was complacent even.

"I wouldn' say that azackly. . . ."

"I'll admit 'tis monotonous," 'Bias went on, between puffs. "Call it nothing at all if you like: I don't take no truck in birds'-talk, for my part--don't mind how same it is. If that's the woman's complaint, she was free to teach it new words any time."

"But it isn't."

"Then I don't see what grievance she can have," said 'Bias with entire composure. "The bird's shapely and well-grown beyond the usual. . . .

Perhaps her objection is to parrots in general--eh?" 'Bias withdrew the pipe-stem from his lips and stared hardily along it. "There's no need to trouble, anyway," he added, "for, as it happens, I'm givin' the bird away."

"Eh?" The interrogation sounded like a faint echo.

"To-morrow. To Mrs Bosenna. Why shouldn't I?"

Cai felt his body stiffen as he sat. For the moment he made no answer: then--

"Well, 'tis your affair--in a sense," he said; "but I shouldn't, if I was you."

"I promised it to her this very day. She was confidin' to me that she finds it lonely up at Rilla, and I don't wonder."

"She've confided the same thing to me several times, off and on," said Cai.

"Ah?" . . . 'Bias was unmoved. "Then maybe it'll help ye to guess how the land lies."

"It do, more or less," Cai agreed: and then, as a bright thought struck him. "Why shouldn't we lend her the musical box? It's--it's more reliable, any way."

"'Twouldn't be much account as a pet, would it?" retorted 'Bias.

"Now look here, Cai!" he swung about in his chair, and for the first time since the conversation started the pair looked one another straight in the eyes. "You an' me'd best come to an understandin' and get it over. I don't mind tellin' you, as man to man, that I've been thinkin'

things out; and the upshot is--I don't say 'tis certain, but 'tis probable--that in the near futur' I shall be spendin' a heap o' my time at Rilla."

"You'll be welcome. I can almost answer for it," Cai a.s.sured him heartily.

"You've noticed it, eh? . . . Well, that saves a lot o' trouble."

With a grunt of relief 'Bias turned his gaze again upon the empty grate and sat smoking for a while. "I'd a sort o' fear it might come on ye sudden . . . eh? What's the matter?" He turned about again, for Cai had emitted an audible groan.

"I'm sorry for ye, 'Bias--you can't think--"

"Oh, you can stow that bachelor chaff," interrupted 'Bias with entire cheerfulness. "I used to feel that way myself, or pretend to.

It's different when a man _knows_."

"I can't let ye go on like this!" Cai groaned again. "Stop it, 'Bias-- do!"

"Stop it?" 'Bias stared. He was plainly amazed.

"I mean, stop talkin' about it! I do, indeed."

Still 'Bias stared. Of a sudden a partial light broke in upon him.

"Good Lord!" he muttered. He arose, knocked the ashes from his pipe, laid it carefully on the chimney-shelf, slid his hands under his coat-tails, and very solemnly faced about.

"I'd an inklin' o' this, once or twice, and I don't mind confessin' it,"

said he, looking down with a compa.s.sionate air which Cai found insupportable. "Tho' 'twas no more than an inklin', and I put it aside, seein' as how no man with eyes could mistake the one she favoured."

"Meanin' me, o' course," interjected Cai, jabbing the tobacco down in his pipe.

"_You?_" 'Bias opened his eyes wide: then he smiled an indulgent smile.

"Ho--you must excuse me--but if that isn' too rich!"

"You needn't start grinnin' like that, or you may end by grinnin' on the wrong side of your face." Cai, instead of pitying his friend's infatuation, was fast losing his temper. "What'd you say if I told you I had proofs?"

"I'd say you was a plumb liar," answered 'Bias with equal promptness, candour, and aplomb. "Proofs? _What_ proofs?"

Cai hesitated a moment. . . . After all, what proof had he to cite?

A gentle pressure of the arm, for example, is not producible evidence.

"Never you mind," said he sullenly. "You'll have proof enough when the time comes."

'Bias received this with a dry smile. "I thought as much. You haven't any, my sonny--not so much as would cover a threepenny-bit."

"You have, I suppose?" sneered Cai.

"Heaps."