ouched a beautiful Angora cat, large and tawny, its great brush
of a tail curled disconsolately about its ears.

"What a lovely kitten!" cried Faith, "and so frightened. Poor, poor
Pussy!"

"And such a saucy parrot!" chimed in Hope. "Isn't it handsome, though?"

"He talka--oh, mocha he talka," observed Beppo, holding the cages on
high with a prideful air. "An' he pussa ver' fine, yes."

"Well, girls, which do you like the better?" said the captain. "I know
it's the thing to give presents to out-going travelers, and I want to
do everything shipshape. But flowers are a nuisance the second day
out, and fruit a drug, so I thought a pet was the thing. It's only to
decide which it shall be."

"Oh, if we can't have both, do let's take the parrot; don't you say so,
Faith?"

"Why, if you wish it, of course, dear, but"--her gaze rested
lingeringly upon the other cage.

"But you want the Persian cat, I see, daughter," put in the captain.
"Well, well, let's have both, Beppo. We'll find some place to stow
'em, no doubt. Have you somebody by to carry them to the steamer?"

"Me go," cried the man, grinning broadly in delight over this trade,
"me vife she stay--me go."

"But couldn't I carry the poor kitten in my arms, she seems to feel
being a prisoner so?" asked Faith, distressed for the pet she loved
already.

"He might scratch you," said the captain, but Beppo shook his head.

"Noa, noa, he gooda; but he getta waya. Dis safa. Betta go cagea."

"Drat the cage!" shouted a hoarse voice, and Faith nearly fell over
backwards, while Hope danced up and down in merry laughter.

"It's my parrot! Oh, father, _does_ he swear? What will we do with
him?"

The captain was silently shaking with merriment, but drew himself
together and turned sternly to the man. "Beppo, you declared that was
a refined, clean-talking bird--now, didn't you? I told you it was for
a young lady."

The man's face fell and he broke into profuse apologies, which grew
more unintelligible as they increased in vehemence. Out of it all they
managed to gather that this was the parrot's worst expression, and only
lately learned of a "badda carpentiera," who had found difficulty in
fashioning the wooden cage he was making, and had used "badda wodda" in
consequence. Hope could scarcely wait till he had finished to cry,
anxiously,

"But, father, it isn't a real swear-word, now, is it? And anyhow we
can teach him to do better. Do, _do_ let me