It was a very nice kitchen, with gas, hot water and cold, ranges and
gas-stoves, and two great cupboards with glass doors through which
all sorts of beautiful serving-dishes shone. Green ivies filled the
window-cases, and geraniums lined the window-sills. A fine old parrot
from the Andes inhabited a large cage with an open door, hanging over
the main window, where the wire netting let in the air from the apple
boughs.

On reaching the platform-stair, Charlie was as astonished as Lucy could
wish.

There sat a little Chinese boy, as it seemed, although at second glance
he looked rather old for a boy. He wore blue clothes and was shelling
peas. His glossy black "pigtail" reached down to the floor, and the
kitten was trying to raise the end of it in her pretty white paws.
As Lucy had said, heavy black silk cords were braided in with the hair,
with handsome tassels.

The parrot had come out of her cage, and was eying the boy and the
kitten, plainly hoping for mischief. Suddenly she caught Charlie's eye,
and with a flap of her wings she cried out to him.

"He's a quare one! Now, isn't he?"

The bird had heard Irish Nora say this a number of times during the day
and had learned the words. Charlie could not help laughing out in
response. With this encouragement Polly came down towards the door of
the cage, and thrust her green and yellow head out into the room. "Now,
isn't he, sure?" cried she, in Nora's own voice.