“I’ll give the beastly bird away,” he said resentfully; though he knew at the same time that he would do no such thing. It would look so absurd after all the years that he had kept the parrot and made much of it suddenly to try and find it a new home.
“Has my brother arrived?” he asked of the stable-boy, who had come with the pony-carriage to meet him.
“Yessir, came down by the two-fifteen. Your parrot’s dead.” The boy made the latter announcement with the relish which his class finds in proclaiming a catastrophe.
“My parrot dead?” said Groby. “What caused its death?”
“The ipe,” said the boy briefly.
“The ipe?” queried Groby. “Whatever’s that?”
“The ipe what the Colonel brought down with him,” came the rather alarming answer.
“Do you mean to say my brother is ill?” asked Groby. “Is
