You’re delicate. Put your feet up. I’m going to fix dinner. This is practice. Stay still. Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Or girl, as the case may be!”

He went out through the living room on his way to the kitchen. As he passed the window, he caught sight of the parrot on the dark porch outside, and he put his head through to speak to it.

“Have you heard the news?” said he. “Behold a father! You’re going to be cut right out, my bird. You’re going to be given away. Yes, sir, it’s a baby.”

The parrot gave a long low whistle. “You don’t say so?” said he in a husky voice, a voice of apprehension, a quite astonishing imitation of Charlie’s voice.

“What about Jack?”

“What’s that?” said Jack, startled.

“He’ll think it’s his,” whispered the parrot in Edna’s voice. “He’s fool enough for anything. Phew-w-w! You don’t say so? What about Jack? He’ll think it’s his, he’s fool enough for anything.”

Jack went out into the kitchen, and sat down with his head in his hands for several minutes.

“Hurry up!” cried Edna from the bedroom. “Hurry up— Father!”

“I’m coming,” said Jack.

He went to his desk, and took out the revolver. Then he went into the bedroom.

At the sound of the cry and the shot, the parrot laughed. Then, lifting its claw, it took the chain in its beak, and bit through it as if it were paper.

Jack came out, holding the gun, his hand over his eyes. “Fool enough for anything!” said the parrot, and laughed.

Jack turned the gun on himself. As he did so, in the infinitesimal interval between the beginning and the end of the movement of his finger on the trigger, he saw the bird grow, spread its dark wings, and its eyes flamed, and it changed, and it launched itself toward him.

The gun went off. Jack dropped to the floor. The parrot, or whatever it was, sailing down, seized what came out of his ruined mouth, and wheeled back through the window, and was soon far away, visible for a moment only as it swept on broader wings past the new-risen moon.

.