Out of the cloakroom flew the parrot, fluttering up on the teacher's
desk. There it perched, preening its feathers with its big beak and
thick, black tongue, now and then uttering harsh squawks and making
remarks, some of which could not be understood.

"Is this the parrot you meant, Sue?" asked Miss Bradley.

"Yes'm, that's Mr. Winkler's," answered Sue. "I can take it back to him
if you want me to. Polly knows me."

"And he knows me, too!" exclaimed Bunny.

"And me!" eagerly added Charlie Star. "Let me and Bunny take him home,
please?" he begged.

"Is that the way to say it?" remarked the teacher, for the room was more
quiet now. "What should you have said, Charlie?"

"Let Bunny and me," corrected Charlie.

"That's right. Always speak of yourself last. It is more polite. Well, I
think you and Bunny may take the parrot back to Mr. Winkler," went on
the teacher. "Certainly we don't want him in our class, though he seems
a bright bird."

"You ought to see Wango, the monkey, climb!" cried fat Bobbie Boomer,
and all the other children laughed. "He's great!"

"Well, I think a parrot is enough for one day," remarked Miss Bradley,