young woman?' asked Madame de Lamouderie, and, still laughing, Jill said that perhaps they did. She herself was quite satisfied to have no character if it preserved her from looking like some of the ladies whom Dick's friends chose to paint.
Joseph at this point appeared with the tea-tray, very accurately disposed, with milk in its jug and a plate of petits beurres. The old lady's hands trembled as she poured out the tea and, observing the unexpected viands, the parrot, after watching her for a moment, burst forth with a short refrain, half croaked, half chanted:
'What a lamb!' cried Jill, leaning round in her chair to gaze delightedly at him.
'Ah, he is a very clever bird, very clever indeed; he has said that verse ever since I knew him, and it is only when he sees food,' said Madame de Lamouderie, pleased by this appreciation of her pet. 'Oui, oui, mon Coco, tu suras du thé.—A little biscuit soaked in milk will enchant him.'
'Oh, may I give it to him?' said Jill. 'He's too attractive. And I do adore animals.'
'And so do I,' said the old lady, preparing the little sop for Coco, who continued to watch her closely, his head on one side. 'So do I. They are my only remaining joy. Here, Madame; give it to him. He will take it so prettily in his claw.' And as Madame de La
