But till then,
observe me, not a word.'
That evening he and Dudley were closeted for a long time. I suspect that he
lectured him on the psychology of ladies; for a bouquet was laid beside my
plate every morning at breakfast, which it must have been troublesome to
get, for the conservatory at Bartram was a desert. In a few days more an
anonymous green parrot arrived, in a gilt cage, with a little note in a
clerk's hand, addressed to 'Miss Ruthyn (of Knowl), Bartram-Haugh,' &c. It
contained only 'Directions for caring green parrot,' at the close of which,
_underlined_, the words appeared--'The bird's name is Maud.'
The bouquets I invariably left on the table-cloth, where I found them--the
bird I insisted on Milly's keeping as her property. During the intervening
fortnight Dudley never appeared, as he used sometimes to do before, at
luncheon, nor looked in at the window as we were at breakfast. He contented
himself with one day placing himself in my way in the hall in his shooting
accoutrements, and, with a clumsy, shuffling kind of respect, and hat in
hand, he said--
'I think, Miss, I must a spoke uncivil t'other day.
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