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a dozen times a day Gyp would start up and come 

 rushing in all ready for a walk. 



The moment he came in Polly would be per- 

 fectly silent. Gyp would look all around the room 

 and then run out into' the hall. 



As soon as he had gone, Polly would whistle 

 again. Back would come the little dog, trembling 

 with eagerness. 



Then Polly would whistle again, going into peals 

 of harsh laughter. Gyp, finding he had been 

 fooled, would leap up at the cage, barking and 

 snapping his teeth with helpless rage, but he never 

 seemed to learn any better. The next time the 

 parrot called, he would come running in just as 

 before. 



The parrot was very accomplished. At one time 

 it had belonged to a concert singer. It could sing 

 " Coming through the Rye," " Alice Ben Bolt," 

 and three other songs. Beside these it sang a 

 negro hymn that began : 



" Nobody knows de trouble I see, Lord ; 

 Nobody knows de trouble I see." 



They said that at one time an old negro woman 

 had had charge of Polly. The parrot used to sit on 



