THE CROCODILE UNDER LOUIS FINNEBERG'S BED

In last year's Love from Uncle Clyde, Parker's pictures of a boy and his hippopotamus belied the straight-faced tone of the text--a birthday letter from Uncle Clyde about the unspecified pet he is sending. This time Louis Finneberg's pet (a gift from this grandparents) is a crocodile, and the text is a newspaper report (in the May 30, 1913, Southampton Press) announcing that the prominent Finnebergs have donated a talking crocodile to the zoo ""in memory of their son . . . who mysteriously disappeared over a fortnight ago."" The paper notes that it was just after the boy's disappearance, which followed his mother's order that the animal be disposed of, that the crocodile began to talk--which will be no surprise to Parker's readers, as the accompanying picture shows a smiling Louis, valise in hand, being happily swallowed by the croc. A September 2nd notice reports that the family has unaccountably reclaimed the animal, which they are treating with love and indulgence; again, readers know why. Parker carries it off without a snag in the period decorum, but we miss the Hippy asides that picked up her previous exercises in deadpan drollery.