I'm sure if he'd been my own son I couldn't 'ave done more for 'im, and, as for Kybird, he's like a father to him." "Dear me," said Mrs.Kingdom, again.
Mrs.Kybird looked at her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to call her a poll parrot.

She was a free-spoken woman as a rule, and it was terrible to have to sit still and waste all the good things she could have said to her in favour of unsatisfying pin-pricks.

She sat smouldering.
"I s'pose you miss the capt'in very much ?" she said, at last.
"Very much," was the reply.
"And I should think 'e misses you," retorted Mrs.Kybird, unable to restrain herself; "'e must miss your conversation and what I might call your liveliness." Mrs.Kingdom turned and regarded her, and the red stole back to her cheeks again.

She smoothed down her dress and her hands trembled.