Mr. Morris’ residence was a fine stone house with wide porches and sunny bay windows, over which were trained graceful creeping vines.  A boy of about eleven years of age and a very pretty lady stood arm in arm on the broad steps leading up to the front entrance that evening when Mr. Morris and the admiral arrived.  They were Johnny Morris and his mother, who had already learned that Mr. Morris had bought the bird and would bring it when he came to dinner.  The admiral discovered the next day that Mrs. Morris owned a box like the one at the office, into which she talked, and that it was called a telephone.  He often mentioned this mysterious box as one of the most remarkable things he saw during his stay among men.

Johnny Morris capered and danced and jumped so hard in the exuberance of his joy at receiving the redbird that all the way to the sitting room his mother was coaxing him to be quiet.

“Don’t act so foolishly,” she begged; but he only capered and kicked up his heels still harder.  When the cage was placed on a stand in the bay window he pranced around it, whistled and chirped, threw the bottom of the cage floor full of seed and splashed the water about so recklessly in his attempts to be friendly as nearly to frighten the poor admiral to pieces.

“Now, Johnny, don’t,” pleaded his mother.

“Johnny, don’t do that,” commanded his father every few minutes.

It was a constant “Don’t, Johnny, do this” and “Don’t, Johnny, do that,” until, the admiral said, the conversation was so mixed up with “Don’t-Johnny’s” as made it almost unintelligible.  Of course these expostulations made not a bit of impression on Johnny Morris.  To be sure, he might stop for the moment, but the next second he was doing something else which brought a fresh round of “Don’t-Johnny’s” from each parent.

He was such a generous, affectionate, pretty boy, with his rosy cheeks and wavy yellow hair, it was a great pity that he should keep a whole household in a state of constant commotion by his habit of not promptly minding when he was spoken to.  His father and mother were very indulgent to him, and the admiral believed he had every kind of a toy known to the boy world.  He also had a machine to ride on, which they called a “wheel.”  On this he went out occasionally, although Mrs. Morris declared she never felt at ease a minute while he was gone, because he never came back at the hour he promised he would.  Besides this, he had a dear little pony, named Jock, on whose back he often cantered about the big park.  Frequently from the bay window the admiral watched him as he mounted Jock and rode away, while his mother stood on the house step and called after him as long as he was in sight:  “Don’t ride in that reckless way, Johnny; you’ll tumble off,” or “Don’t, Johnny; the pony will throw you,” at which Johnny would laugh and make the pony go faster.