Virginia Sharpe Patterson - Dickey Downy
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Virginia Sharpe Patterson >> Dickey Downy
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CHAPTER VI
THE PARROT AT A PARTY
A parrot there I saw, with gaudy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopped from side to side.
"How did you happen to get away from the Morrises?" asked my brother.
The red-bird laughed heartily, as if the recollection were exceedingly
amusing.
"Well," said he, "it all came about through Johnny's having a tea
party. For months he had been coaxing and begging his mother to invite
his schoolfellows to the house and entertain them with games and plays
and music, ending with a fine supper. Early in the spring when he
began talking of it, it was too cold, his mother said. Then after a
while it was too rainy, or too warm, or they were house-cleaning, or
something, and so she kept putting him off from one time to another,
hoping by deferring it to make him forget it. The Morrises always
spent the month of August at their seaside cottage, and the night
before they left home, Johnny tried to get Mrs. Morris to promise that
he might have the party the very first thing on their return.
"'I'll think about it, my dear,' she answered.
"'Whenever you say you'll think about it then I'm pretty sure not to
get what I want,' sighed Johnny."
[Illustration: The Summer Tanager.]
"His mother seemed to be much amused at this statement. 'Oh, no, my
son, it doesn't always turn out that way; but you know it wouldn't do
for me to promise to have it just as soon as we get back,' she
objected. 'I am always very busy just at our return. It might be very
inconvenient for me to prepare for a children's evening at that time;
but when I am ready I shall take pleasure in getting up a nice party
for you sometime in the autumn.'
"This sounded well, but it was not definite enough to suit Johnny.
However he said no more at that time. While the family were gone
Bessie and I had the back porch to ourselves, and no one being there
except the housemaid to whom she could display her superiority over me,
she grew to be quite agreeable. For some time before the Morrises had
bought her, which was years and years before, long before Johnny was
born, she had lived in a taxidermist's shop. The owner of the shop was
also a bird dealer in a small way. On account of her accomplishments
he had held her at a price that few were willing or able to pay, and so
she had been forced to stay with him a long time. She much preferred
being owned by a refined family to living in a dingy store, for she was
a bird of luxurious tastes, she said.
"I too had never ceased being glad that the grocer had sold me to the
Morrises, for I was sure that life would not have been so comfortable
for me in the back part of a country store, inhaling the odors from
fish barrels and molasses kegs, and with the dreary outlook afforded by
shelves full of canned vegetables and cracker boxes. The only point in
favor of a life at the grocery was that I would have been nearer to the
woods; but if I could not be in the woods, of what avail was that? The
Morrises were people of elegance and refinement, and their home
expressed their culture. I had made a pleasant exchange, and I felt it
was wise to be as contented as possible.
"August slowly passed, and Johnny came back. The big house that had
been so quiet for four weeks was suddenly wakened as from a sleep. His
noisy, joyous voice rang through the halls, and from cellar to garret.
"'Bless the b'y! he's that plazed to git back, it does one's sowl good
to hear him,' said the housemaid.
"Mrs. Morris was so busy for the first day or two that she saw little
of Johnny. He was sent on several errands, and took his own time in
returning, but every one had too much to do to inquire what kept him so
long.
"'Can't I shine up Bessie's and the admiral's cages?' he asked his
mother after dinner the second day.
"Mrs. Morris was delighted with her son's thoughtfulness. 'Why,
Johnny,' she said, 'I'll be so glad to have you do it.'
"So master Johnny wiped and dusted our cages till we felt very clean,
although I own I did not enjoy having him work about me with his brush
and dust cloth. Just as he had finished and put us back in our places
the doorbell sounded, and presently we heard children's voices in the
hall asking the maid if Johnny Morris was at home.
"'It is some one to see you,' said Mrs. Morris. But Johnny did not
reply. He was nowhere to be seen. At the first sound he had quietly
slipped out of the room and I could now see him hiding behind the
curtains in the library. Soon Sarah came ushering three or four little
barefooted children into the parlor.
"'They've come to Johnny's party, ma'am,' she explained to Mrs. Morris,
who looked up from her work as the children entered.
"'How do you do, my dears?' said Mrs. Morris sweetly, though I could
see she was greatly surprised. 'I believe I don't know your names, so
you will have to introduce yourselves.'
"The children looked bashful, and made no reply.
"'You are not Johnny Morris' schoolmates, are you?' she questioned.
"'No, ma'am,' answered the tallest girl, as she gazed about the
handsome room with wide-open eyes, I could see that she was not
accustomed to such beautiful things.
"Where did you get acquainted with him, then?' went on Mrs. Morris
kindly.
"'We hain't acquainted at all, ma'am; but he seed us on the street this
morning, and said for us to come to his party to-day. He thought as
how maybe they'd be ice-cream to eat, and he told us where he lived,
and so we are here.'
"'Well, we must try to make you have a pleasant time,' she replied.
'Sarah, please call Johnny and tell him his guests have arrived.'
"But Sarah had been answering a second peal of the bell, and now
appeared with a very queer smile on her face at the head of a line of
three girls and a small boy, whom she introduced by saying:
"'A few more children, ma'am, who have come to take tea with master
Johnny.'
"'Why, really,' exclaimed Mrs. Morris, in a sort of flutter, as she
helped Sarah to seat the new arrivals. 'The house is hardly in order
for company.'
"The children appeared quite embarrassed, and ranged themselves
silently and sedately on the chairs to which they had been directed.
"'Dear me, Sarah, what a predicament to be in! Where do you suppose
Johnny scraped up all these youngsters? I don't know what I ought to
do to him for playing me this trick.' Mrs. Morris said this to the
maid as they came to my side of the room. 'Think of all the work to be
done, and which will have to be stopped for the day--the house all
upside down--no chance for preparations for an extra supper for his
company. And that big girl bespoke ice-cream as soon as she entered.'
And then Mrs. Morris and Sarah turned into the recess of the bay window
and laughed softly. Her vexation seemed to pass away in a few minutes,
for she added, 'We must make the best of it, since they are here, and
let everything else go. But there's the bell; I expect it's another
batch of Johnny's friends.'
"And so it proved, for these were old acquaintances, eight or ten of
his schoolmates. Little misses dressed in fine style, in dainty
ruffled frocks and necklaces and bright hair-ribbons, tripped
gracefully in and advanced to meet Mrs. Morris, quite like grown ladies
in their manners. Behind them came several boys, spick and span in
fresh white linen waists and silk neckties and well-fitting shoes.
"'Ah! here are Frances and Naomi and Justice and Karl and Mary Ethel
and Philip and Jessica and all the rest,' said Mrs. Morris, giving them
each a hand of welcome as they gathered about her in a pretty group.
'Will you make yourselves quite at home and help me to entertain these
other visitors till Johnny comes in? I don't know what keeps him so
long. If you'll excuse me I'll go and look for him. There are the
pictures in the portfolio that you might like to show to these little
girls. And there's the admiral, our redbird, and Bessie, the parrot.
Maybe they would like to look at them.'
"The two girls whom she had designated as Jessica and Frances looked at
the strange children a minute but made no movement to carry out Mrs.
Morris' wishes. Instead they drew a little apart and began to talk to
each other. Mary Ethel, a round-faced girl who giggled a great deal
behind her fan, crossed over to where sat the large girl who had
mentioned the ice-cream, and started a conversation by remarking that
it was a warm day. The girl made no audible answer, only nodded.
"'Do you like to go to school?' inquired Mary Ethel.
"The girl again nodded. There was a little pause. Mary Ethel, who was
bent on carrying out Mrs. Morris' suggestion to help her entertain
them, began again on the weather. I suppose she couldn't think of
anything new to say, so she observed:
"'It's a nice warm day for the first of September, don't you think?'
"The girl's head once more wagged up and down in assent, but not a word
did she utter. At this a subdued titter came from Frances and Jessica.
Mary Ethel's face grew red and she frowned at them.
"Just at this moment in ran Johnny. He had put on his best suit. His
yellow hair was freshly brushed and his face was wreathed in smiles.
He reminded one of a dancing sunbeam. It was wonderful to see how
quickly he set the social wheel moving in the parlor. In three minutes
he had them all acquainted and talking to each other. At one side I
noticed Naomi and Jessica who were trying to make the parrot talk for
the big girl. Mary Ethel was turning the crank of a small music box,
around which were clustered a group of the stranger children. On a
sofa three or four others had the portfolio of pictures spread out.
Others came to my cage coaxing me to whistle for them, while Johnny
capered hither and thither and joked and had more funny things to say
than anybody in the room. When he let Bessie out of her cage and put
her on the piano to sing the 'Mocking Bird,' the joy of the visitors
knew no bounds.
"'Have you a parrot, Jeannette?' he asked one of the little barefooted
girls, whose dancing black eyes showed how much she enjoyed Bessie's
performance.
"'No, but I have two lovely cats.' She made the announcement as if
very proud of their ownership.
"'I have a cat too. He dresses in black and wears long white
whiskers, and looks just like a respectable old colored man.' This
description amused the children very much.
"'What's your cat's name?' they shouted.
"'Jett. What do you call your cats, Jeannette?'
"'The big one is _Boule de Neige_ and the little one is _Jaune
Jaquette_.'
"'What queer names!' exclaimed Mary Ethel. 'How did you happen to
select such names for them?'
"'Oh, miss, because the names do suit them so well.'
"'They don't sound like any cats' names that ever I heard. I don't
understand how they would suit.' Mary Ethel looked perplexed.
"'Why, miss, on account of the color of those cats, to be sure,' said
Jeannette in surprise.
"'Pooh!' explained Johnny, 'that's easy. _Boule de neige_ is the
French for snowball, and _jaune_ means yellow, so _jaune jaquette_
means yellow jacket. I learned that in our French reader. I expect
one of the cats is all white and the other is a yellow one. Is that
it, Jeannette?'
"'Yes, sir,' said the French child, and she tipped him a polite little
bow that was very pretty indeed.
"'_Boule de Neige_! what a funny name. I haven't named our white
kitten yet. I believe I'll call it _Boule de Neige_ for a change,'
said Karl.
"Then Jett was brought in and Bessie pounced upon him for a ride, she
chuckling and singing and looking from side to side with proud
satisfaction, knowing she was being observed by everybody. The
children almost screamed with delight at this performance.
"'Now, Bessie,' said Johnny, as the poor cat at last shook her off and
slank away. 'You did that beautifully, and you deserve something to
eat. I am going to let you have some bread and milk right here in the
parlor, and the company can see how nicely you can feed yourself with a
spoon.'
"'All right,' croaked the parrot. Sarah brought in a saucer in which
was a little bread moistened with milk, and two spoons with it. A
cloth was spread over one corner of the table and Bessie crawled up to
the top of a chair which had been placed with its back close to the
table. This brought the bird almost in line with the saucer. Johnny
took his seat beside her and broke the bread into tiny pieces with his
spoon, shoving the particles into the other spoon as fast as Bessie
disposed of them. She gravely clasped her spoon with one claw and
brought it to her mouth quite dextrously and ate the contents with
evident relish, though it was plain that she enjoyed being admired for
being able to do it really more than she enjoyed the bread. Once in a
while her grasp was uncertain and the food was spilled on her breast
feathers or fell to the floor. At this she scolded herself roundly and
seemed quite ashamed.
"'One of these days, when I get time, I am going to train her to use a
napkin when she eats,' said Johnny.
"'She'll be a perfectly accomplished lady then,' added Mary Ethel.
"By this time some of the stranger children had left the table and had
come over to my cage to look at me.
"'The admiral's an awful purty feller,' said one.
"'Wouldn't his tail be sweet on a Sunday hat?' suggested another.
"'Oh, I choose his wings for my hat,' exclaimed a third.
"'I choose his head and breast for mine,' said the first one who had
spoken. 'And Naomi chooses his whole body for her hat, I expect,' she
added as Naomi joined them.
"'No,' said Naomi, 'we don't wear birds any more in our family. My
sister and I used to have our hats trimmed with them, but we've quit.
I had a lovely one on my blue velvet hat last year. It was a beautiful
hat," and she smiled at the recollection. 'But we've quit now,' she
added gravely.
"'Why?' asked the other girls in a breath.
"'Oh, because my mother thinks it is wrong to wear them. Little boy,
little boy, be careful or you'll let the bird out,' she called hastily.
"But the warning was too late. While the girls had been talking the
small boy who was with them had been entertaining himself by slightly
opening my cage door and letting it spring back to its fastening.
Suddenly he was seized with fright at discovering that it had stuck
while half-way back, and refused to come together.
"Oh, dear!' he called. 'He's out.'
"'Mercy on us! Oh, dear!' screamed the girls as I made a dash through
the opening, and flew to the top of a picture frame. 'Johnny, Johnny,
your redbird's out,' they called.
"All was confusion in an instant. Boys and girls ran hither and
thither, tumbling over each other, and over the chairs and stools, and
all talking and screaming at once.
"'Bring a broom or a flagpole, Johnny,' called Philip. 'I'll shoo him
down for you while you stand underneath and catch him.'
"'Shoo, shoo!' said Jeannette, catching her dress skirt with both hands
and waving it back and forth rapidly. In a minute all the girls were
waving their dress skirts at me and saying 'shoo.'
"'Oh, my pretty Admiral Dewey, my dear old admiral,' wailed Johnny,
almost in tears.
"I didn't wait for the broom or the flagpole to help me from the
picture frame. I balanced myself steadily and then I flew out of the
open window and away into the world, without saying good-bye to
anybody. I suppose they all crowded to the window to look after me as
I disappeared, for the last thing I heard was Mrs. Morris' voice
saying, 'Don't, Johnny; you'll fall out if you lean over so far. Papa
will get you another bird. Don't grieve so hard. Don't, Johnny.'"
"Did you ever see Johnny afterward?" we asked the redbird.
"Yes, once I saw him cantering along slowly on Jock. He could not go
very fast because he was holding a great bunch of red and pink roses in
one hand. His cheeks were as pink as the flowers and his yellow hair
curled up under the edge of his cap the same as it used to. I knew him
in a minute. A great many carriages were on the street trimmed in
flags and flowers. Little flags were fastened to the horses' harness.
Jock had one on each side of his head, which made him look very pretty.
Children were running about carrying wreaths. On a corner of the
street where a band was playing some men were holding banners. I heard
some one say it was Decoration Day, and that everybody strewed flowers
on the graves in the big cemetery that day. I thought it was a very
beautiful custom. Through all the buzz and confusion I kept an eye on
Johnny. He didn't seem to be riding anywhere in particular, but was
just looking around for the fun of the thing. Presently he drew up to
the sidewalk where a little ragged boy was leaning up against a tree.
He had a wistful look, as if he would like to be taking part.
"'Hello!' said Johnny, as he reined Jock in. 'Aren't you going to help
to decorate?'
"'Naw--ain't got any posies, I tell you.' The boy said this in a
sullen tone.
"'Here, take these. I brought you a big bunch so you could divide 'em
with some of your friends. There's enough for all of you boys to have
a few flowers to take to the cemetery.' Johnny extended the roses with
a smile as he spoke.
"The boy grabbed them eagerly. 'My! You're a jolly one, I'll say that
for you,' he said heartily by way of thanks, then he ran off with a
whoop.
"I saw from this action that Johnny was the same generous, kind-hearted
boy he used to be, and I felt proud to have had the honor of his
acquaintance."
CHAPTER VII
A WINTER IN THE SOUTH
I was wrong about the Phoebe bird;
Two songs it has, and both of them I've heard;
I did not know those strains of joy and sorrow
Came from one throat.
As the season advanced our May songs became less melodious until
finally our music was merely a metallic but pleasant, "chink, chink,"
and we knew we would soon be putting on our new fall attire, as toward
the close of the summer our family exchange their pretty
black-and-white suits, so much admired, for a becoming yellowish-brown
one. The different flocks were also now arranging for their regular
winter trip to the sunny Southland, where their winters were spent.
I was very glad to know that we bobolinks were to travel only in the
daytime, as that would afford us younger ones a better opportunity to
see the country. The return trip to the North is always made by night.
A great many people have wondered why we do this, and those who are
interested in our habits have tried to find out; but it is a secret the
birds have never yet divulged, and probably never will.
The blue jays were going to remain behind, for the winters which we
dreaded so much had no terrors for them. Sometimes when we were
preening our feathers under the radiant skies near the Southern gulf, I
thought of our old neighbors the jays, and fancied them in their bleak
Northern home flitting about in the tops of the leafless trees, swayed
by the icy winds from the upper lakes, and with perhaps but little to
eat. I would not have exchanged places with them for the world. But
my older comrades assured me the jays were not in need of my sympathy
or pity. They liked the invigorating cold and chattered merrily in the
desolate boughs and enjoyed many a nice meal from under the melting
snow. The crimson dogwood berries, standing out like rosettes of
coral, at which they liked to peck, also furnished them an aesthetic
and sumptuous feast. Much more to be dreaded than the winter's cold
was the cruel sportsman, said my comrades.
The day of our departure came. The concourse of birds setting out on
their annual journeys was immense, and oh, what joy it was to soar
aloft on buoyant pinion high up in the blue sky, over housetops and
tops of trees, skimming along above rushing waters or tranquil streams
in quiet meadows. Mere existence was a keen delight. The sense of
freedom, of lightness, of airiness, was gloriously exhilarating, a
delicious sensation known only to the feathered tribes of all God's
creation.
Our trip took us across some densely wooded mountains, where we rested
for a time. A thick undergrowth of young saplings prevented any roads,
and only occasional narrow footpaths showed that people sometimes
passed that way.
The mountain was grand in its loneliness; but doubtless was a desolate
spot to the settlers, whose cabins were scattered at long distances
from each other in the depths of the wood. I could imagine how cut off
from the whole world the women and children in these cabins would feel,
for it is natural for human beings to love society. The perpetual
stillness must have been hard to bear when months sometimes passed
away, especially in the winter season, without their getting a glimpse
of other human faces.
The mountains were full of wildcats too, which made their situation
worse, as these fierce animals were frequently known to attack men as
savagely as wolves do. One day while we were there two travelers
camped under the tree where our family was roosting. They had
evidently had a hard time making their way through the tangled
undergrowth, for as one of the men flung himself down on the ground and
stretched himself out at full length, he exclaimed peevishly:
"Well, I don't want any more such experiences. I'm dead tired; my face
is all scratched with the thorns and bushes; and I haven't seen a
newspaper for a week. If the railroad company needs any more work of
this kind done, they must get somebody else."
"Fiddle-dee-dee! You mustn't be so easily discouraged," answered the
other young man, who had already set to work scraping up dry chips and
pieces of bark to make a fire, "Think of these poor mountaineers who
stay here all their lives. Your little tramp of a few days is nothing
to what they do all the time and never think of complaining. The half
of them are too poor to own a mule. They eat hog and hominy the year
around, and are thankful to get it. Their clothes are fearfully and
wonderfully made, but for all that they don't give up and think life
isn't worth living."
As the two young fellows talked on in this strain I named them Growler
and Cheery, because the one was so determined to look on the dark side,
while the other took a cheerful view of everything. Growler continued
to lounge on the ground, looking with careless interest at Cheery, who
was preparing dinner.
The dinner was in a small tin box which he took from his coat pocket.
Opening it he disclosed some eatables very compactly put in. He took
out several articles and set them on the ground in front of him. In
the box was a bottle stoutly corked containing a dark liquid, some of
which he poured into a flat tin cup which formed a part of the lid of
the box. This he set over the fire, which by this time was snapping
cheerily.
"Come," he said. "Here's a lunch fit for a king. Get up and have your
share. Maybe when your stomach is warmed up with a few ham and mustard
sandwiches, some cheese and coffee, you'll be in better spirits. These
crackers are good eating too."
"Fit for a king, eh? Mighty poor kind of a king, I should say,"
growled Growler sarcastically; but he rose and flicked the leaves and
twigs from his clothing before he helped himself to the coffee which
was now hot.
"One cup for two people is just one too few," laughed Cheery when it
came his turn to take some. "My! but it tastes good. There's nothing
like the open air to give one an appetite."
"I don't like coffee without cream," objected Growler, chewing moodily
at his cracker.
"Well, we'll get to Girard by to-night, and then possibly we will get a
good supper."
While they were lunching I had observed another traveler slowly
approaching through the underbrush. Over one shoulder was slung a
leather strap in which were a few books. He carried a rifle, and from
his coat pocket bulged a small package. As he drew nearer the sound of
his footsteps startled Growler who nervously upset his coffee over his
shirt front.
"What d'ye suppose he is?" he asked of Cheery as the stranger
approached.
"I judge he's a parson, from the cut of his clothes," observed Cheery.
Then as the new-comer advanced he called: "Hello, friend! Who'd 'a
thought of meeting company this far back in these mountains?"
"This is only about eight miles from the town where I live," answered
the gentleman, who now seated himself near them with his back against a
tree, "I know the paths through here fairly well, for I come this way
several times through the summer. But this will be my last trip for
the season, and I'm giving a little more time to it on that account.
I've taken it somewhat leisurely to-day."
He was a delicate-looking, middle-aged man, with a mild voice and a
kind face.
"You're a drummer for a publishing house, I take it?" said Growler,
nodding toward the books in the strap. "I've just been wondering where
you'd find any buyers in these infernal woods."
The gentleman laughed. "No," said he, "this is my regular route; but
I'm not a commercial traveler in any sense. I'm a pastor at a town
near here, and I go out to these mountain families to hold services
every few weeks."
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