"Would you though?" returned Krook, grinning. "You're bearing hard upon my noble and learned brother in your meaning, sir, though perhaps it is but nat'ral in a Jarndyce. The burnt child, sir! What, you're looking at my lodger's birds, Mr. Jarndyce?" The old man had come by little and little into the room until he now touched my guardian with his elbow and looked close up into his face with his spectacled eyes. "It's one of her strange ways that she'll never tell the names of these birds if she can help it, though she named 'em all." This was in a whisper. "Shall I run 'em over, Flite?" he asked aloud, winking at us and pointing at her as she turned away, affecting to sweep the grate.

"Well, perhaps it is but nat'ral in a Jarndyce, sir! You're looking at my lodger's birds, Mr. Jarndyce?" The old man had come into the room, and now looked close up into my guardian's face. "It's one of her strange ways that she'll never tell the names of these birds if she can help it." This was in a whisper. "Shall I run 'em over, Flite?" he asked aloud, winking at us.
