You won't be when you've heard what's happened.' 'Well, what HAS happened ?' said the bird, still rather crossly; and Anthea and Jane paused with long needles poised in air, and long needlefuls of Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool drooping from them.
'The most awful thing you can possibly think of,' said Cyril.

'That nice chap--our own burglar--the police have got him, on suspicion of stolen cats.

That's what his brother's missis told me.' 'Oh, begin at the beginning!' cried Anthea impatiently.
'Well, then, we went out, and down by where the undertaker's is, with the china flowers in the window--you know.

There was a crowd, and of course we went to have a squint.

And it was two bobbies and our burglar between them, and he was being dragged along; and he said, "I tell you them cats was GIVE me.