“I’m keeping it warm,” said Susan, “but it’s getting a bit dry.”
“Stick another lump of butter on it,” said Peggy.
It was nearly dark when at last they heard the sound of oars and then the scrunch of a boat on the shingle at the landing-place. A moment later Captain Flint walked into the firelight. He carried a large cage wrapped up in a blue cloth cover. You could see it was a cage by the bottom of it. The firelight glittered on the big brass knob that stuck out at the top above the cover. There was a ring in the knob to carry it by or for hanging it to a beam. Captain Flint put it on the ground by Titty. A big white label was fastened to the ring. Titty read it by the light of the fire:
“ From Captain Flint to the able-seaman who saved his Life. ”
“But I didn’t save your life,” said Titty.
“I didn’t write life. I wrote Life,” said Captain Flint. “ Mixed Moss . It’s the same thing.”
“Thank you very much indeed,” said Titty. “I’ll hang it up in the schoolroom, ready for the parrot.”
But just then there was a noise of scraping from under the blue cover.
“Look inside,” said Captain Flint. “I thought it would be rather a long time to wait till I come back from the south next spring.”
Titty lifted the blue cloth cover and a loud cheerful voice, rather like the voice of Nancy Blackett, came from beneath it.
“Pieces of eight,” said the green parrot, “pieces of eight!”
“It’s never said it before,” said Nancy. “And now it’ll say it all the time.”
“Am I really to have it?” said Titty.