But
he held me fast, and laughed with all his might, I looked at the other
boys and they were laughing, too. Presently, I heard again, "Beautiful
Joe, Beautiful Joe." The sound was close by, and yet it did not come
from the cabin boy, for he was all doubled up laughing, his face as red
as a beet.
"It's the parrot, Joe!" cried Ned. "Look at her, you gaby." I did look
at her, and with her head on one side, and the sauciest air in the
world, she was saying: "Beau-ti-ful Joe, Beau-ti-ful Joe!"
I had never heard a bird talk before, and I felt so sheepish that I
tried to get down and hide myself under the table. Then she began to
laugh at me. "Ha, ha, ha, good dog--sic 'em, boy. Rats, rats!
Beau-ti-ful Joe, Beau-ti-ful Joe," she cried, rattling off the words as
fast as she could.
I never felt so queer before in my life, and the boys were just roaring
with delight at my puzzled face. Then the parrot began calling for Jim:
"Where's Jim, where's good old Jim? Poor old dog. Give him a bone."
The boys brought Jim in the parlor, and when he heard her funny, little,
cracked voice calling him, he nearly went crazy: "Jimmy, Jimmy, James
Augustus!" she said, which was Jim's long name.
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