'You better!' said he who was named Urb. 'Say, Ike, you twist the
bloomin' pigeon's neck; he ain't worth tuppence.'

'Oh, no,' cried Jane, 'don't hurt it. Oh, don't; it is such a
pet.'

'I won't hurt it,' said Ike; 'I'm 'shamed of you, Urb, for to think
of such a thing. Arf a shiner, miss, and the bird is yours for
life.'

'Half a WHAT?' asked Anthea.

'Arf a shiner, quid, thick 'un--half a sov, then.'

'I haven't got it--and, besides, it's OUR bird,' said Anthea.

'Oh, don't talk to him,' said Cyril and then Jane said suddenly--

'Phoenix--dear Phoenix, we can't do anything. YOU must manage it.'

'With pleasure,' said the Phoenix--and Ike nearly dropped it in his
amazement.

'I say, it do talk, suthin' like,' said he.

'Youths,' said the Phoenix, 'sons of misfortune, hear my words.'

'My eyes!' said Ike.

'Look out, Ike,' said Urb, 'you'll throttle the joker--and I see at