Added to all this we had to endure language from that parrot which
was really shocking: indeed, so scurrilous did he become that we had
at last to take him and lock him up in the coal-hole, where, owing to
the darkness of his bedroom, or from fatigue, he presently swore
himself to sleep.
Well, by this time, we were quite ready for rest, and the
forgetfulness which, we hoped, sleep would bring with it; but our
peace was not to last long. About 2 A.M. my wife clutched my hair and
woke me up. "James, James, listen!" I listened. I heard a sort of
scrambling noise outside the door. "The water running into the
cistern, my dear," I said sleepily.
"James, don't be absurd; that horrid thing has broken its string, and
is coming upstairs."
I listened again. It really sounded like it.
"James, if you don't go at once, _I_ must. You know the nursery door
is always left open, and if that horrid thing should get in to
baby----"
"But, my dear," said I, "what am I to do in my present defenceless
state of clothing, if he should take to pecking?"
My wife's expression of contempt at the idea of considering myself
before the baby determined me at once, come what might, to go and do
him battle. Out I went, and there, sure enough, he was on the
landing resting himself after his unusual exertion by tucking up one
leg.
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