"We can have all kinds of a rough house now." And he got down on his hands and knees in the middle of the rug and very gravely turned a somersault.
"Sam! Behave! Or I'll set my parrot on you!" exclaimed Valerie.
Ogilvy sat up and inspected the parrot.
"You know," he said, "I believe I've seen that parrot somewhere." "Impossible, my dear friend--unless you've been in my bedroom." Ogilvy got up, dusted his trowsers, and walked over to the parrot.
"Well it looks like a bird I used to know--I--it certainly resembles--" He hesitated, then addressing the bird: "Hello, Leparello--you old scoundrel!" he said, cautiously.
"Forget it!" muttered the bird, cocking his head and lifting first one slate-coloured claw from his perch, then the other;--"forget it! Help! Oh, very well.

God bless the ladies!" "_Where_ on earth did you ever before see my parrot ?" asked Valerie, astonished.

Ogilvy appeared to be a little out of countenance, too.
"Oh, I really don't remember exactly where I did see him," he tried to explain; and nobody believed him.
"Sam! Answer me!" "Well, where did _you_ get him ?" "Jose Querida gave Leparello to me." Annan and Ogilvy exchanged the briefest glance--a perfectly blank glance.
"It probably isn't the same bird," said Ogilvy, carelessly.

"There are plenty of parrots that talk--plenty of 'em named Leparello, probably." "Sam, how _can_ you be so untruthful! Rita, hold him tightly while I pull his ears!" It was a form of admonition peculiarly distasteful to Ogilvy, and he made a vain effort to escape.
"Now, Sam, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! Quick, or I'll tweak!" "All right, then," he said, maliciously, "Querida's got relatives in Oporto who send him these kind of parrots occasionally.

He names 'em all Leparello, teaches 'em all the same jargon, and--gives 'em to girls!" "How funny," said Valerie.