But alas for Teddy Roosevelt!  The very first night he was ignominiously whipped by the spiteful occupant of the cage, who resented having these country visitors thrust into his house without his leave.  Poor Teddy died the next day.  Admiral Dewey stood the battle better than his unfortunate friend, but he too was pecked at in a way so threatening that the groceryman concluded it would be wise to get rid of him immediately.  Because the admiral had not defended himself better from his pet’s attack, the grocer regarded him with some disgust.

“Being as there was two of you and only one of the sparrow, ’pears as if you hadn’t much grit,” he said.  “I would better take your high-soundin’ name away from you and call you something else besides Dewey, if you can’t fight.”

For all the man’s censure, the redbird knew that if Teddy Roosevelt had killed the sparrow instead of being killed by it, the grocer would have been much more grieved at the loss, for he had heard him say the sparrow was like one of his family.  The man forgot that the result might have been different if the redbirds had been older.

Having decided to dispose of the admiral, the grocer, who had an errand in the city the next day, carried the bird with him.  He knew of a probable customer for it in a gentleman named Morris, who had been advertising in the papers for a redbird.  He soon found the street and number where was located the gentleman’s office, at which the advertisement was to be answered, and displayed the admiral.

“Your bird looks kind of ragged, as though he hadn’t been treated well,” said Mr. Morris, as he examined the scarlet plumage.  “My boy wants a redbird, and I promised him one if he would get the highest grade in arithmetic in his class this term and he did it, so of course I must keep my word.  What d’ye ask for this bird?”

“He’d be cheap at five dollars,” answered the groceryman.  “A nice redbird is hard to get, and they’re powerful nice singers, but bein’ as it’s for your boy that has earned it by studying his lessons so good—­I always like a boy that is fond of his books—­you can have it for two dollars and a quarter.”

As he had paid but five cents for it this advance in price would be a fine business speculation.  After a little further talk, Mr. Morris counted out the money, and the man went back to his home doubtless wishing he had a hundred more redbirds to sell at the same handsome profit.  After he had gone, Mr. Morris went to a box hanging against the wall, and turning a handle began talking to the box as if it were a human being.  Though it was just a plain wooden box, the admiral said there was something mysterious about it, for Mr. Morris actually seemed to be carrying on a conversation with it, though the bird could not hear what the box answered, but he felt sure it talked back.