“What are their names?” Mrs. Frith enquired.
Michael thought for a long time.
“What are their names, Mrs. Frith?” he asked at last.
“That’s your business,” said Cook.
“Why is it?” Michael wanted to know.
“Because they’re your birds, stupid.”
“One’s Stella’s.”
“Well, Stella isn’t old enough to choose for herself. Come along, what are you going to call them?”
“You call them,” said Michael persuasively.
“Well, if they was mine I should call them——” Cook paused.