by strangers, who knew nothing of the previous tenants, except that they were said to have gone to Europe to live.  They drove to Mr. Duroy’s, and found strangers there, who said the former occupants had all died of yellow-fever,—­the lady and gentleman, a negro woman, and a white baby.  Flora was bewildered to find every link with her past broken and gone.  She had not lived long enough to realize that the traces of human lives often disappear from cities as quickly as the ocean closes over the tracks of vessels.  Mr. Jacobs proposed searching for some one who had been in Mr. Duroy’s employ; and with that intention, they returned to the city.  As they were passing a house where a large bird-cage hung in the open window, Flora heard the words, “Petit blanc, mon bon frere!  Ha! ha!”

She called out to Mr. Jacobs, “Stop!  Stop!” and pushed at the carriage door, in her impatience to get out.

“What is the matter, my child?” inquired Mrs. Delano.

“That’s Madame’s parrot,” replied she; and an instant after she was ringing at the door of the house.  She told the servant they wished to make some inquiries concerning Signor and Madame Papanti, and Monsieur Duroy; and she and Mrs. Delano were shown in to wait for the lady of the house.  They had no sooner entered, than the parrot flapped her wings and cried out, “Bon jour, joli petit diable!” And then she began to whistle and warble, twitter and crow, through a ludicrous series of noisy variations.  Flora burst into peals of laughter, in the midst of which the lady of the house entered the room.  “Excuse me, Madame,” said she.  “This parrot is an old acquaintance of mine.  I taught her to imitate all sorts of birds, and she is showing me that she has not forgotten my lessons.”

“It will be impossible to hear ourselves speak, unless I cover the cage,” replied the lady.

“Allow me to quiet her, if you please,” rejoined Flora.  She opened the door of the cage, and the bird hopped on her arm, flapping her wings, and crying, “Bon jour!  Ha! ha!”

“Taisez vous, jolie Manon,” said Flora soothingly, while she stroked the feathery head.  The bird nestled close and was silent.

When their errand was explained, the lady repeated the same story they had already heard about Mr. Duroy’s family.

“Was the black woman who died there named Tulee?” inquired Flora.

“I never heard her name but once or twice,” replied the lady.  “It was not a common negro name, and I think that was it.  Madame Papanti had put her and the baby there to board.  After Mr. Duroy died, his son came home from Arkansas to settle his affairs.  My husband, who was one of Mr. Duroy’s clerks, bought some of the things at auction; and among them was that parrot.”

“And what has become of Signor and Madame Papanti?” asked Mrs. Delano.

The lady could give no information, except that they had returned to Europe.  Having obtained directions where to find her husband, they thanked her, and wished her good morning.