vigorously that the very beads of his rosary tinkled together. “Thou art the naughtiest bird in, all of California! What if Padre Anzar finds thee despoiling his plant? He will put thee again where thou must fight to keep thy feathers–in the kitchen with the cats!”
At the mention of cats a startling change came over the parrot. Her plumage ruffled, her eyes began to roll, she straightened on the perch, uttering hoarse cries of fear and defiance.
“Then be good,” he counselled. “be good. Or off thou ’It likely go. Me-e-ow! me-e-ow!”
And now Loretta moved nearer, anxious for friendly terms. “Dame la mano,” she suggested; “a-a-aw, dame la mano! A-a-aw! a-a-aw!”
