‘It’s a Kiki-bird,’ said Jack, solemnly. ‘Gus, meet Kiki. Kiki, meet Gus!’
Kiki held out her left foot as usual, to shake hands. Gus looked extremely surprised, but his manners remained perfect. He held out his hand to Kiki’s foot. Unfortunately Kiki dug her talons into his ringers, and he gave a loud yell.
‘What a noise, what a noise!’ said Kiki, severely. ‘Wipe your feet and blow your nose. Fetch the doctor!’
‘My finger’s blidding,’ said the boy, with tears in his voice. ‘It blids, look.’
‘Fetch the doctor, Polly’s got a cold, fetch the doctor,’ chanted Kiki, enjoying herself. The boy suddenly realised that it was the parrot who was talking. He forgot his ‘blidding’ and stared at Kiki in amazement.
‘It spiks!’ he announced in awe. ‘It spiks. It spiks words. It sees my blidding finger, and spiks to fetch the doctor. I never haf seen a Kiki-bird before.’
‘Come along in, and I’ll put a bit of bandage on your finger,’ said Mrs. Cunningham, getting tired of all this.
‘Yes. It blids,’ said Gus, mournfully, watching a minute drop of blood fall to the ground. He looked as if he was going to cry. Then he said a most extraordinary thing.
‘This bird,’ he said, looking at Kiki suddenly, ‘this bird-it must be in a cage. I order it.’
‘Don’t be a fathead,’ said Jack, after a moment’s silence of astonishment. ‘Come on, Aunt Allie-let’s go indoors. Gus might “blid” to death!’
This was a most alarming thought, and Gus rushed into the house at once. The others followed slowly. What an extraordinary boy!
‘Bit dippy,’ said Dinah in a low voice, and they all nodded. Bill’s voice hailed them.
‘Hey! What about a spot of help with the luggage?’
‘Oh, Bill. Sorry, we weren’t thinking,’ said Jack, and ran back at once. ‘Gus rather took our breath away. What nationality is he?’
‘Oh, he’s a bit of a mixture, I think,’ said Bill. ‘Don’t bother him about his family or his home, or he’ll probably burst into tears. Sorry to inflict him on you like this. He’ll be better when he’s shaken down a bit. I believe he got on quite all right at the English school he was at. Anyway-I’ll take him off your hands as much as I can, I promise you, as it’s my friend who asked me to keep an eye on him!’
‘We’ll help, Bill,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘I expect he’s shy. Oh dear-I was so afraid he’d kiss my hand! What would the girls at school say?’
‘Well, I should hardly think they’d know anything about it,’ said Bill. ‘You take that bag, Jack-and you that box, Philip. Well-it’s nice to see you all home again! And Kiki, too, you old rascal. How dare you call me Silly-Billy?’
‘Pop goes Billy, pop goes Billy!’ screeched Kiki in delight, and flew down to his shoulder to nibble his ear. ‘Pop-pop-pop!’
Chapter 3
GUSSY AND KIKI
THERE really wasn’t very much time that evening to get to know Gustavus Barmilevo. As they were all going off again the next day there was packing to do, and all kinds of arguments arose as to what was or was not to be taken.
Gustavus was bewildered by the noise of so many people talking at once. He sat staring at them all, nursing his bandaged finger. Kiki absolutely fascinated him. He watched her continually, but would not allow her near him.
As soon as she came near, he flapped his hands at her as if she was a hen. ‘Go off!’ he cried. ‘Clear away!’
‘He’s as muddled as Kiki sometimes gets,’ said Jack, with a grin. ‘Kiki can’t make him out. Now, where did I put that book? Aunt Allie, did I pack that big book?’
‘You did,’ said Aunt Allie. ‘And I have unpacked it. For the third time, Jack, you are NOT going to take a score of books about birds. Two is more than enough, so make your choice.’
‘You’re so hard-hearted,’ groaned Jack. ‘Well, I suppose you will allow me to take my field-glasses? In fact, if they don’t go, I shan’t go either.’
‘You can carry those round your neck,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘Do try and remember that there will be seven of us in the car and all the luggage, too. We really must take the least luggage possible. Kiki, bring that string back. KIKI! Jack, if you don’t stop Kiki running off with absolutely everything I put down for a moment, I shall go mad.’
‘Where is the cage?’ suddenly demanded Gustavus, in a commanding voice. ‘Put him in the cage.’
‘She’s a her, not a him,’ said Jack, ‘and stop talking about cages. No ordering about, please!’
Gustavus apparently did not follow this, but he resented Jack’s firm voice. He sat up stiffly.
‘This bird iss-iss-wicket!’ he said. ‘Not good. Wicket. I will not haf him wizzout a cage.’
‘Now, Jack, now!’ said Mrs. Cunningham warningly, as she saw Jack’s furious face. ‘He’s not used to Kiki yet. Or to our ways. Give him a chance to settle down. Don’t take any notice of him. Gustavus, the bird is not wicked. She is good. Sit still and be quiet.’
‘Where is the cage?’ repeated Gustavus, in a most maddening manner. ‘A beeg, BEEG cage. For a wicket bird.’
Jack went over to him and spoke slowly and loudly with his face close to the surprised boy’s.
‘I have a beeg, BEEG cage,’ he said, most dramatically. ‘But I keep it for small, silly boys. I will bring it for you, Gus. If you want a beeg, BEEG cage you shall have it for yourself. You shall sit in it and be safe from that wicket, wicket bird.’
To Jack’s enormous surprise Gustavus burst into tears! All four children looked at him aghast. How could a boy of eleven be so incredibly silly? Even Lucy-Ann was disgusted. Mrs. Cunningham hurried over to him.
‘He’s tired out,’ she said to the others. ‘It’s all strange to him here, and he’s never seen a parrot like Kiki before. Nor have any of us, come to that! Cheer up, Gustavus. Jack didn’t mean what he said, of course.’
‘I jolly well did,’ began Jack. ‘Kiki’s old cage is enormous and …’
Mrs. Cunningham firmly led the weeping Gus from the room. The others stared at one another in complete disgust.
‘Well! To think we’ve got to put up with that these hols!’ began Jack. ‘All I can say is that I’m going to take him firmly in hand-and he won’t enjoy it one bit!’
‘I’ll take him in hand, too,’ said Dinah, quite fiercely. ‘Who does he think he is-laying down the law about Kiki and a cage! Oh, Jack-I do wish you’d got that old cage and brought it in. I’d have loved to see Gustavus’s face.’
‘Poor old Gussy!’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Wouldn’t he have howled! Poor Gussy!’
‘Gussy!’ said Kiki, at once. ‘Fussy-Gussy! Fussy-Gussy!’
Everyone laughed. ‘You’ve hit it off again,’ said Philip to Kiki. ‘Fussy-that’s exactly what we’ll have to put up with-fuss and grumbles and silliness all the time. Why don’t foreigners bring up their kids properly? Fussy-Gussy! We shall get jolly tired of him.’
‘Fussy-Gussy!’ screamed Kiki, dancing to and fro, to and fro on her big feet. ‘Wipe your feet, Gussy!’
‘Dry your eye, you mean,’ said Philip. ‘I hope Gussy’s not going to burst into tears too often. I think I’ll borrow one of Mother’s afternoon-tea-cloths and take it with me to offer him every time he looks like bursting into tears.’
Mrs. Cunningham came back, and overheard this. ‘I think you’re being a bit unkind,’ she said. ‘He’s a silly little boy, I admit-but it must be rather nerve-racking for him to be plunged into the midst of a company like this when he doesn’t speak the language properly, and everyone laughs at him. I think you should play fair and give him a chance.’
‘All right, Mother,’ said Philip. ‘All the same-it isn’t like Bill to thrust someone like Gussy on us at a moment’s notice, just at the beginning of the hols.’
‘Well, you see,’ said his mother, ‘it’s like this. Bill was saddled with this youngster-and he knew you wouldn’t like having him. So he suggested to me that he should go off with him alone somewhere. I couldn’t bear that, because a holiday without Bill would be horrid-and so we thought it would be best if Gustavus came with us all, and we tried to put up with him. It’s either that or going without both Gussy and Bill.’
‘I see,’ said Philip. ‘Well, I’d rather put up with Gussy than have no Bill.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said his mother. ‘So don’t make Bill feel too bad about it, will you? He’s quite likely to vanish with Gussy for the rest of the holidays if you make too much fuss. All the same-I think you can quite safely make young Gustavus toe the line. That won’t do him any harm at all. He seems a spoilt little crybaby to me.’