By the morning his anger had evaporated, but his misgivings remained. He left after breakfast for the _Curlew_, which was to sail in the afternoon, leaving behind him copious instructions, by following which his wife would be enabled to come down and see him off with the minimum exposure of her fatal charms. Left to herself Mrs. Gannett dusted the room, until coming to the parrot’s cage she put down the duster and eyed its eerie occupant curiously, She fancied that she saw an evil glitter in the creature’s eye, and the knowing way in which it drew the film over it was as near an approach to a wink as a bird could get. She was still looking at it when there was a knock at the door, and a bright little woman—rather smartly dressed—bustled into the room, and greeted her effusively. “I just come to see you, my dear, because I thought a little outing would do me good,” she said briskly; “and if you’ve no objection I’ll come down to the docks with you to see the boat off.” Mrs. Gannett assented readily. It would ease the engineer’s mind, she thought, if he saw her with a chaperon. “Nice bird,” said Mrs. Cluffins, mechanically, bringing her parasol to the charge. “Don’t do that,” said her friend hastily. “Why not?” said the other. “Language!” said Mrs. Gannett solemnly. “Well, I must do something to it,” said Mrs. Cluffins restlessly. She held the parasol near the cage and suddenly opened it. It was a flaming scarlet, and for the moment the shock took the parrot’s breath away. “He don’t mind that,” said Mrs. Gannett. The parrot, hopping to the farthest corner of the bottom of his cage, said something feebly. Finding that nothing dreadful happened, he repeated his remark somewhat more boldly, and, being convinced after all that the apparition was quite harmless and that he had displayed his craven spirit for nothing, hopped back on his perch and raved wickedly. “If that was my bird,” said Mrs. Cluffins, almost as scarlet as her parasol, “I should wring its neck.” “No, you wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Gannett solemnly. And having quieted the bird by throwing a cloth over its cage, she explained its properties. “What!” said Mrs. Cluffins, unable to sit still in her chair. “You mean to tell me your husband said that!” Mrs. Gannett nodded, “He’s awfully jealous of me,” she said with a slight simper. “I wish he was my husband,” said Mrs. Cluffins in a thin, hard voice. “I wish C. would talk to _me_ like that. I wish somebody would try and persuade C. to talk to me like that.” “It shows he’s fond of me,” said Mrs. Gannett, looking down. Mrs. Cluffins jumped up and snatched the cover off the cage; endeavoured, but in vain, to get the parasol through the bars. “And you believe that rubbish!” she said scathingly. “Bosh, you wretch!” “I don’t believe it,” said her friend, taking her gently away and covering the cage hastily just as the bird was recovering, “but I let him think I do.”