Free Beautiful Joe by Marshall Saunders Page B

of Carl’s. The boy put him in the cage, wrapped it
up well, for it was a cold, snowy day, and carried it out to Mrs. Montague’s
sleigh.
    She gave
him a pleasant smile, and drove away, and Carl ran up the steps into the house.
“It’s all right, mother,” he said, giving Mrs. Morris a hearty, boyish kiss, as
she stood waiting for him. “I don’t mind letting her have it.”
    “But you
expected to sell that one, didn’t you?” she asked.
    “Mrs.
Smith said maybe she’d take it when she came home from Boston, but I dare say
she’d change her mind and get one there.”
    “How much
were you going to ask for him?”
    “Well, I
wouldn’t sell Barry for less than ten dollars, or rather, I wouldn’t have sold
him,” and he ran out to the stable.
    Mrs.
Morris sat on the hall chair, patting me as I rubbed against her, in rather an
absent minded way. Then she got up and went into her husband’s study, and told
him what Carl had done.
    Mr. Morris
seemed very pleased to hear about it, but when his wife asked him to do
something to make up the loss to the boy, he said: “I had rather not do that.
To encourage a child to do a kind action, and then to reward him for it, is not
always a sound principle to go upon.”
    But Carl
did not go without his reward. That evening, Mrs. Montague’s coachman brought a
note to the house addressed to Mr. Carl Morris. He read it aloud to the family.

    M Y D EAR C ARL :
I am charmed with my little bird, and he has whispered to me one of the secrets
of your room. You want fifteen dollars very much to buy something for it. I am
sure you won’t be offended with an old friend for supplying you the means to
get this something.
    A DA M ONTAGUE
    “Just the
thing for my stationary tank for the goldfish,” exclaimed Carl. “I’ve wanted it
for a long time; it isn’t good to keep them in globes, but how in the world did
she find out? I’ve never told anyone.”
    Mrs.
Morris smiled, and said; “Barry must have told her;” as she took the money from
Carl to put away for him.
    Mrs.
Montague got to be very fond of her new pet. She took care of him herself, and
I have heard her tell Mrs. Morris most wonderful stories about him—stories so
wonderful that I should say they were not true if I did not how intelligent
dumb creatures get to be under kind treatment.
    She only
kept him in his cage at night, and when she began looking for him at bedtime to
put him there, he always hid himself. She would search a short time, and then
sit down, and he always came out of his hiding place, chirping in a saucy way
to make her look at him.
    She said
that he seemed to take delight in teasing her. Once when he was in the drawing room
with her, she was called away to speak to someone at the telephone. When she
came back, she found that one of the servants had come into the room and left
the door open leading to a veranda. The trees outside were full of yellow
birds, and she was in despair, thinking that Barry had flown out with them. She
looked out, but could not see him. Then, lest he had not left the room, she got
a chair and carried it about, standing on it to examine the walls, and see if
Barry was hidden among the pictures and bric-à-brac. But no Barry was there. She
at last sank down, exhausted, on a sofa. She heard a wicked, little peep, and
looking up, saw Barry sitting on one of the rounds of the chair that she had
been carrying about to look for him. He had been there all the time. She was so
glad to see him, that she never thought of scolding him.
    He was
never allowed to fly about the dining room during meals, and the table maid
drove him out before she set the table. It always annoyed him, and he perched
on the staircase, watching the door through the railings. If it was left open
for an instant, he flew in. One evening, before tea, he did this. There was a
chocolate cake on the sideboard, and he liked the look of it so much that he
began to peck at it. Mrs. Montague happened to come in, and