52 Tom Seven Years Old.

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——- es

like the tigers and leopards. Tom felt almost
sure they did not dislike visiting England,
and might even perhaps come back of their
own accord. Most of them had brown ana
orey skins, but there was one in pure white,
with soft, pink hands, and gentle manners.

“You've been well brought up,” said Tom.
“you are a gentleman! I suppose that's
why you have a house of your own to live in,
because you find the others too rough and
rude. Can't you teach them not to speak so
loud, or snatch so rudely ?”

He was quite glad to get out into the quiet,
open air, where he could only hear himself
talking, and the cry of a strange creature
every now and then. But the minute he went
into the parrots’ house the noise began worse
than ever. The parrots did not chirp or sing
like other birds—they screamed, and they all
screamed together. Tom was astonished at
the beautiful colours they were dressed in:
some were as red as the scarlet geraniums at
home, and some were as yellow as the butter-
cups.