The Argosy — page 343: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

318 An Old Bird. ‘Ts it alive?” cried Patty, shrinking with pretty fear behind her lover, as she caught sight of the tail feathers. ‘No, no,” said Joe, laughing ; “ bin dead a hundred years or more.” This announcement aroused a feeling of temporary security in Patty, and she approached to examine the parrot. ‘‘What a queer old thing! Why it’s only a parrot, Joe, just like Aunt Mary’s, only dirtier !” Patty felt and showed a little contempt that such a trifle should puzzle her Joe. He, however, had not played his cards yet, and, manlike, enjoyed the idea of crushing her with them. He slowly lifted the bird close to the lamp and said: “Has Aunt Mary’s parrot got claws like those P” Patty darted back, her cheek paling. “Toe,” she said, in a trembling whisper, ‘‘let’s take it to Gihier. 4 The bird was solemnly enveloped once more, and Joe followed Patty into the presence of an old, white-bearded man who wore glasses that shone in the light of the lamp by which he was working. “Father!” cried Patty, in an excited low voice, ‘put by your work a minute. Joe, show him the bird.” Off came the red handkerchief, as Mr. Bond indulgently withdrew his glasses, and down went the parrot in front of him. ‘‘A stuffed parrot !” said the old man, quietly. ‘‘ Going to make an ornament for Patty with him ?” | “Took at his claws—put on your glasses!” cried Patty. Won- deringly her father obeyed—and a faint tinge rose in his withered cheek. ‘‘ Diamonds !” he whispered, in an awe-struck voice. “The eyes are queer,” pursued Joe, in a tone of concentrated excitement. ‘“‘A breathless pause while the old jeweller rubbed at the eyes with a leather. ‘‘Rubies—splendid rubies!” cried Mr. Bond, exultantly. Patty and Joe looked at each other, and both faces were very pale. The jeweller continued to examine the precious stones, and at length said : ‘‘ How came you by this, Joe?” ) ‘Bought it for two shillings at a second-hand shop, full of rubbish. Mr. Birch’s, you know. He offered it to me for two shillings to spite a Jew that was after it.” “Ha! a Jew wanted it! e knew its worth! Why didn’t he secure it?” ‘‘ Because he wouldn’t pay five shillings for it.” “Ha, ha!” laughed the old man, softly; “he lost a bargain here.” ‘And he foundthat out somehow,” said Joe; “for he stopped me in the street to see if I’d sell it again for a trifle over what I gave,” comircbooks:com