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I didn't give him time to be doleful about it. |
'I've been as quick as I possibly could,' I said, 'and it's not so bad after all, Pete. We shall have a quarter of an hour for Rock Terrace at least, if we hurry now. Don't speak -- it only wastes your breath,' for in those days, with being so plump and sturdy and his legs rather short, it didn't take much to make him ... |
He was always very sensible, so he took my advice and we got over the ground pretty fast, only pulling up when we got to the end, or beginning, of the little row of houses. |
'Now,' said I, 'let's first walk right along rather slowly, and if we hear the Polly we can stop short, as if we were noticing him for the first time, the way people often do, you know.' |
Peterkin nodded. |
'I believe I see the corner of his cage out on the balcony,' he said, half whispering, 'already.' |
He was right. The cage was out. |
We walked past very slowly, though we took care not to look up as if we were expecting to see anything. The parrot was in the front of the cage, staring down, and I'm almost certain he saw us, and even remembered us, though, out of contradiction, he pretended he didn't. |
'Don't speak or turn,' I whispered to Pete. It was so very quiet along Rock Terrace, except when some tradesman's cart rattled past -- and just now there was nothing of the kind in view -- that even common talking could have been heard. 'Don't speak or seem to see him. They are awfully conceited birds, and the way to m... |
So we walked on silently to the farther end of the terrace, in a very matter-of-fact way, turning to come back again just as we had gone. And I could be positive that the creature saw us all the time, for the row of houses was very short, and he was well to the front of the balcony. |
Our 'stratagem' -- I have always liked the word, ever since I read Tales of a Grandfather, which I thought a great take-in, as it's just a history book, neither more nor less, and the only exciting part is when you come upon stratagems -- succeeded. As we got close up to the parrot's house, next door to Mother Wylie's,... |
And then, as we still did not speak, Master Poll, his round eyes glaring at us, I felt certain, was forced to open the conversation. |
'Pretty Poll,' he began, of course. 'Pretty Poll.' |
'All right,' I called back. 'Good morning, Pretty Poll. A fine day.' |
'Wants his dinner,' he went on. 'I say, wants his dinner.' |
'Really, does he?' I said, in a mocking tone, which he understood, and beginning to get angry -- just what I wanted. |
'Naughty boy! naughty boy!' he screeched, very loudly. Pete and I grinned with satisfaction! |
Chapter VI |
Margaret |
THERE'S an old proverb that mamma has often quoted to us, for she's awfully keen on our all being 'plucky,' and, on the whole, I think we are -- |
'Fortune favours the brave.' |
I have sometimes thought it would suit Peterkin to turn it into 'Fortune favours the determined.' Not that he's not 'plucky,' but there's nothing like him for sticking to a thing, once he has got it into his head. And certainly fortune favoured him at the time I am writing about. Nothing could have suited us better tha... |
I suppose he had been taught to say it to errand-boys and boys like that who mocked at him. But we did not want to set up a row, so I replied gently -- |
'No, no, Polly, good boys. Polly shall have his dinner soon.' |
'Good Polly, good Polly,' he repeated with satisfaction. |
And then -- what do you think happened? The door-window of the drawing-room of the next house, the house, was pushed open a little bit, and out peeped a child's head, a small head with smooth short dark hair, but a little girl's head. We could tell that at once by the way it was combed, or brushed, even if we had not s... |
The only pity was, that she was up on the drawing-room floor. We could have seen her so much better downstairs. But we had scarcely time to feel disappointed. |
When she saw us, and saw, I suppose, that we were not errand-boys or street-boys, she came out a little farther. I felt sure by her manner that she was alone in the room. She looked down at us, looked us well over for a moment or two, and then she said -- |
'Are you talking to the parrot?' |
She did not call out or speak loudly at all, but her voice was very clear. |
'Yes,' Peterkin replied. As he had started the whole business I thought it fair to let him speak before me. 'Yes, but he called out to us first. He called us "naughty boys."' |
'I heard him,' said the little girl, 'and I thought perhaps you were naughty boys, teasing him, you know, and I was going to call to you to run away. But -- ' and she glanced at us again. I could see that she wanted to go on talking, but she did not quite know how to set about it. |
So I thought I might help things on a bit. |
'Thank you,' I said, taking off my cap. 'My little brother is very interested in the parrot. He seems so clever.' |
At another time Pete would have been very offended at my calling him 'little,' but just now he was too eager to mind, or even, I daresay, to notice. |
'So he is,' said the little girl. 'I could tell you lots about him, but it's rather tiresome talking down to you from up here. Wait a minute,' she added, 'and I'll come down to the dining-room. I may go downstairs now, and nurse is out, and I'm very dull.' |
We were so pleased that we scarcely dared look at each other, for fear that somehow it should go wrong after all. We did glance along the terrace, but nobody was coming. If only her nurse would stay out for ten minutes longer, or even less. |
We stood there, almost holding our breath. But it was not really -- it could not have been -- more than half a minute, before the dark head and white pinafore appeared again, this time, of course, on the ground floor; the window there was a little bit open already, to air the room perhaps. |
We would have liked to go close up to the small balcony where she stood, but we dared not, for fear of the nurse coming. And the garden was very tiny, we were only two or three yards from the little girl, even outside on the pavement. |
She looked at us first, looked us well over, before she began to speak again. Then she said -- |
'Have you been to see the parrot already?' |
'Oh yes,' said Peterkin, in his very politest tone, 'oh yes, thank you.' I did not quite see why he said 'thank you.' I suppose he meant it in return for her coming downstairs. 'I've been here two, no, three times, and Giles,' he gave a sort of nod towards me, 'has been here two.' |
'Is your name Giles?' she asked me. She had a funny, little, rather condescending manner of speaking to us, but I didn't mind it somehow. |
'Yes,' I replied, 'and his,' and I touched Pete, 'is "Peterkin."' |
'They are queer names; don't you think so? At least,' she added quickly, as if she was afraid she had said something rude, 'they are very uncommon. "Giles" and "Perkin."' |
'Not "Perkin,"' I said, "Peterkin."' |
'Oh, I thought it was like a man in my history,' she said, 'Perkin War -- something.' |
'No,' said Peterkin, 'it isn't in history, but it's in poetry. About a battle. I've got it in a book.' |
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