AFTER THE HURRICANE. 221 



They probably were driven before the winds for 

 many hundred miles, and many were lost in the rag- 

 ing ocean ; but in the end the woods were again 

 peopled with these gems of air. For three days after 

 the storm we missed our Polly Psittacus, and I 

 thought I detected Thomas Ned one day muttering 

 under his breath that there was no wind so ill that it 

 did not bring relief to somebody. He knew, how- 

 ever, that I highly prized Polly Psittacus and that 

 his loss would be deeply regretted, and so made no 

 audible comment. 



But on the fourth morning we heard a chattering 

 on the roof pole, and running out I was delighted 

 and Thomas Ned disgusted at the sight of dear old 

 Polly. He was as pert and chirrupy as ever, and 

 saluted us with a nonchalance that was delightful. 

 " Bon jour^ messieurs^'^ he said, while preening his 

 feathers carefully, as though the matutinal greeting 

 had suffered no material interruption. " Beaucoup 

 pluie! Plenty rain. Polly hungry." He hopped 

 down and took his customary place at table, silent, 

 but evidently big with important news, which his 

 restricted mental equipment did not permit him to 

 communicate. 



" De same ole Jimcrack," muttered Thomas Ned ; 

 " da bery same ole raskil ; de win's done blow, an' de 

 stawm done rage, but de debil he know he own ; 

 nuttin' done touch ole Jimcrack! But, whar yo' 

 wife, eh ? " Polly looked up from devouring a ba- 

 nana, as though that was something that had occurred 

 to him, also. He scratched his head, turned it aside. 



