"The sparrows in Hyde Park aren't as tame as this.

If we keep perfectly still, I'll get one to settle on my arm." Mary felt that she could have forgone this display of animal good temper, but seeing that Ralph, for some curious reason, took a pride in the sparrows, she bet him sixpence that he would not succeed.
"Done!" he said; and his eye, which had been gloomy, showed a spark of light.

His conversation was now addressed entirely to a bald cock-sparrow, who seemed bolder than the rest; and Mary took the opportunity of looking at him.

She was not satisfied; his face was worn, and his expression stern.

A child came bowling its hoop through the concourse of birds, and Ralph threw his last crumbs of bread into the bushes with a snort of impatience.
"That's what always happens--just as I've almost got him," he said.
"Here's your sixpence, Mary.