They were much larger than Robert and Cyril, and one of them had snatched the Phoenix away and was holding it high above their heads.
'Give me that bird,' said Cyril, sternly: 'it's ours.' 'Good arternoon, and thankin' you,' the boy went on, with maddening mockery.

'Sorry I can't give yer tuppence for yer trouble--but I've 'ad to spend my fortune advertising for my vallyable bird in all the newspapers.

You can call for the reward next year.' 'Look out, Ike,' said his friend, a little anxiously; 'it 'ave a beak on it.' 'It's other parties as'll have the Beak on to 'em presently,' said Ike, darkly, 'if they come a-trying to lay claims on my Poll parrot.

You just shut up, Urb.

Now then, you four little gells, get out er this.' 'Little girls!' cried Robert.