“What’s it mean?” chorused the birds.
“Oh, that’s his impudence,” said the old owl, winking and blinking, for he had been roused out of his sleep by the new call.
“Come now, that won’t do; we don’t want you meddling now, old mousetrap,” said the birds; “none of your night-birds here.” Saying which, they pecked and buffeted old Shoutnight to such a degree that he was glad to shuffle off to his hole behind the ivied chimney-stack.
All this while the cry kept coming out of the cedar, “Cuckoo! cuckoo!”
“It’s Dutch,” said a greenfinch, looking very knowing.
“No, it isn’t; he comes from Spain, I know,” said the goldfinch.
“Chiswick, Chiswick,” shouted the sparrow.
“Tchah,” said the jackdaw.
“Twit, twit,” said the nuthatch.
“Little bit o’ bread and no cheese,” said the yellowhammer.