'Excuse me,' said a gentle voice, and a courteous beak opened, very
kindly and delicately, the right eye of Cyril. 'I hear the slaves
below preparing food. Awaken! A word of explanation and
arrangement ... I do wish you wouldn't--'

The Phoenix stopped speaking and fluttered away crossly to the
cornice-pole; for Cyril had hit out, as boys do when they are
awakened suddenly, and the Phoenix was not used to boys, and his
feelings, if not his wings, were hurt.

'Sorry,' said Cyril, coming awake all in a minute. 'Do come back!
What was it you were saying? Something about bacon and rations?'

The Phoenix fluttered back to the brass rail at the foot of the
bed.

'I say--you ARE real,' said Cyril. 'How ripping! And the carpet?'

'The carpet is as real as it ever was,' said the Phoenix, rather
contemptuously; 'but, of course, a carpet's only a carpet, whereas
a Phoenix is superlatively a Phoenix.'

'Yes, indeed,' said Cyril, 'I see it is. Oh, what luck! Wake up,
Bobs! There's jolly well something to wake up for today. And it's
Saturday, too.'

'I've been reflecting,' said the Phoenix, 'during the silent
watches of the night, and I could not avoid the conclusion that you
were quite insufficiently astonished at my appearance yesterday.
The ancients were always VERY surprised. Did you, by chance,