n to say over to the parrot some of the phrases that formerly
amused her father and Rosabella. The old bird was never talkative now;
but when urged by Flora, she croaked out some of her familiar phrases.

"I'm glad we brought _pauvre Manon_ with us," said Mrs. Blumenthal. "I
think she seems livelier since she came here. Sometimes I fancy she
looks like good Madame Guirlande. Those feathers on her head make me
think of the bows on Madame's cap. Come, _jolie Manon_, I'll carry you
out doors, where the sun will shine upon you. You like sunshine, don't
you, Manon?"

She took the cage, and was busy fastening it on the bough of a tree,
when a voice from the street said, "_Bon jour, jolie Manon_!"

The parrot suddenly flapped her wings, gave a loud laugh, and burst
into a perfect tornado of French and Spanish phrases: "_Bon jour!
Buenos dias! Querida mia! Joli diable! Petit blanc! Ha! ha_!"

Surprised at this explosion, Mrs. Blumenthal looked round to discover
the cause, and exclaiming, "_Oh ciel_!" she turned deadly pale, and
rushed into the house.

"What _is_ the matter, my child? inquired Mrs. Delano, anxiously.

"O Mamita, I've seen Rosa's ghost," she replied, sinking into a chair.

Mrs. Delano poured some cologne on a handkerchief, and bathed her
forehead, while she said, "You were excited last night by the tune you
used to hear your sister sing; and it makes you nervous, dear."

While she was speaking, Mrs. Bright entered the room, saying, "Have
you a bottle of sal volatile you can lend me? A lady has come in, who
says she is a little faint."

"I will bring it from my chamber," replied Mrs. Delano. She left
the room, and was gone some time. When she returned, she found Mrs.
Blumenthal leaning her head on the table, with her face buried in her
hands. "My child, I want you to come into the other room," said Mrs.
Delano. "The lady who was faint is the famous Mrs. King, from Boston.
She is boarding on Round Hill, and I suppose it was her voice you
heard singing. She said she had seen a lady come into this house who
looked so much like a deceased relative that it made her feel faint.
Now don't be excited, darling; but this lady certainly resembles the
sketch you made of your sister; and it is barely possible--"

Before she could finish the sentence, Flora started up, and flew into
the adjoining room. A short, quick cry, "O Floracita!" "O Rosabella!"
and they were locked in each other's arms.

After hugging and kis