Anzar advancing, brown cowl shading hollow eyes.
Padre Alonzo colored guiltily. “Tony must go to the shade,” he said. ”The sun is hot to the cooking-point.”
Padre Anzar paused a moment, glowering up at Loretta. “Then may it singe the plumage of that vixen,” he answered. “She desecrates our garden.” Another frown, and he passed on.
Padre Alonzo watched him out of sight before he again addressed the parrot. “I fear thou must mend thy ways, Loretta,” he said. ”Here it is Christmas Day, and yet Anzar has no good words for thee. But see,”–he held up a plump hand, displaying one of Gabrielda’s sweet biscuits–“riotous
