The admiral thought they showed very poor taste,
for her music was simply horrid and couldn't compare with the warblings
of the woods birds. It is well, however, to make allowance for the
admiral's opinion, for musicians are proverbially jealous of each other.
The song the parrot sang was "Listen to the Mocking Bird," to which
Mrs. Morris played a little gliding accompaniment on the piano. Great
hand-clappings always followed the performance. These Bessie accepted
with an air of studied indifference. But if for the purpose of teasing
her they did not applaud her performance, she shrilly screamed:
"Bessie's a good bird, a good bird I tell you," raising her voice
higher and higher at each repetition.
Then she would wait a moment for some one to assure her that she was
indeed a very good bird, quite the smartest bird that ever breathed.
But if these soothing assurances were not quickly forthcoming, she
would retire to the back of her favorite chair and, elevating her bill
to show her disdain, sulk in silence.
"Did she like you?" I asked the admiral one day when he was telling us
about her funny tricks.
"No, she was a little bit jealous of me; yet she was not unfriendly,
except when Johnny or some other member of the family paid me
attention.
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