``Could you tell me, sir, if them white birds is storks or halbatrosses?
I had an argyment---''
The cold dignity thawed at once into genial friendliness.
``Those are pelicans, my dear sir. Are you interested in birds? If
you would join me in a bun and a glass of milk at the stall yonder,
I could tell you some interesting things about Indian birds. Right
oh! Now the hill-mynah, for instance---''
The two men disappeared in the direction of the bun stall, chatting
volubly as they went, and shadowed from the other side of
the railed enclosure by a black swan, whose temper seemed to have
reached the limit of inarticulate rage.
Belturbet gazed in an open-mouthed wonder after the retreating
couple, then transferred his attention to the infuriated swan, and
finally turned with a look of scared comprehension at his young
friend lolling unconcernedly in his chair. There was no longer any
room to doubt what was happening. The ``silly talk'' had been
translated into terrifying action.
``I think a prairie oyster on the top of a stiffish brandy-and-soda
might save my reason,'' said Belturbet weakly, as he limped towards
his club.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237