Mrs.
Montague happened to come in, and drove him back to the hall.
While she was having tea that evening, with her husband and little boy,
Barry flew into the room again. Mrs. Montague told Charlie to send him
out, but her husband said, "Wait, he is looking for something."
He was on the sideboard, peering into every dish, and trying to look
under the covers. "He is after the chocolate cake," exclaimed Mrs
Montague. "Here, Charlie, put this on the staircase for him."
She cut off a little scrap, and when Charlie took it to the hall, Barry
flew after him, and ate it up.
As for poor, little, lame Dick, Carl never sold him, and he became a
family pet. His cage hung in the parlor, and from morning till night his
cheerful voice was heard, chirping and singing as if he had not a
trouble in the world. They took great care of him. He was never allowed
to be too hot or too cold. Everybody gave him a cheerful word in passing
his cage, and if his singing was too loud, they gave him a little mirror
to look at himself in. He loved this mirror, and often stood before it
for an hour at a time.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XII
MALTA, THE CAT
The first time I had a good look at the Morris cat, I thought she was
the queerest-looking animal I had ever seen.
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