10 Prebendary Lambrick—The Story of a Tame Book


rind thrown down to her. She waits for the cook, after placing her

pastry in the oven or her bacon in the frying-pan, to present her with

scraps for similar treatment. Her imitation of two cats fighting is

so realistic that the girls have rushed into the kitchen thinking a strange

cat had caught her, only to find her on the gas-bracket giving a musical

sketch.


If you go out without saying anything she flies madly about the

room. If you say to her, “ Coming back soon,” she quite understands

and remains peaceful and satisfied.


She is very fond of putting things in the tuck of my trousers. One

day in church I heard faintly the sound of a silver bell during service,

and it turned out to be a thimble her ladyship had stolen and put in

her usual store-cupboard, which had shaken out on to the marble floor

of the chancel. We hardly ever lose anything by her thefts, as all she

steals she endows me with.


One of her greatest friends is Mr. Gilbert Day, our plumber. He

always ignores her sex and calls her “ Jack”. There is a wonderful

freemasonry between them. He gives her most fascinating things out

of his bag, but if he happens to want the particular thing he simply

says “ Come on, Jack ”, and the bird comes straight up, gives over

what she has got, and receives a substitute from him. The way she

pokes her beak into all his work and down the pipes is a perfect lesson

to a clerk of the works. One word as to her digestion. She has survived

two tabloids of pyrogallic acid and half a dozen Beecham’s pills ! But

a saccharine tabloid does not appeal to her at all.


No words can describe the bird’s devoted affection. If I am out for

a few minutes, there is a joyous welcome back; if I return after a few

weeks’ absence, such a greeting ! So much to tell me ! She knows the

true meaning of love, for it is always “ giving ” with her, not “ getting

She brings her first bit of food for me to share, and is only too delighted

if I ransack her little treasury, which no one else may even look at.

She is happy for hours on my shoulder, greets me the first thing in the

morning, is so disappointed if I cannot give her an hour before the rest

are up, and has a last word for me before I go to bed; and I can close

this letter as I did a letter to the Spectator three years ago : “ As I

write she is on my wrist, talking to me all the time.”



