luck at a'," but the parrot had so many things to attend to that
he never had time to finish the tune. He was, indeed, very vain and
flighty, sidling along his perch and saying: "Sweet pretty Joey, who
are you, who are you? Ha! Ha! Ha!" wanting everybody to take
notice and admire him. When Maggie first attacked poor Pup,
scratched his back, pecked at his head, and tore locks of wool out
of him, and Pup screamed pitifully to all the world for
help, Joey poked his head between the wires of his cage, turned one
eye downwards, listened to the language, and watched the new
performance with silent ecstacy. He had never heard or seen anything
like it in the whole course of his life. Philip used to drive Maggie
away, take up poor Pup and stroke him, while Maggie, the villain,
hopped around, flapping her wings and giving the greatest impudence.

It really gave Philip a great deal of trouble to keep order among his
domestics. One day, while hoeing in the garden, he heard the Pup
screaming miserably. He said, "There's that villain, Maggie, at him
again," and he ran up to the hut to drive her away. But when he reached
it there was neither Pup nor Maggie to be seen, only Joey in his cage,
and he was bobbing his head up and down, yelping exactly like the
Pup, and then he began laughing at Philip ready to burst, "Ha! Ha!
Ha! Who are you? Who are you? There is no luck aboot the hoose,
There is na luck at a'."

The native bear resided in a packing case, nailed on the top of a
stump nearly opposite the hut door. He had a strap round his waist,
and was fastened to the stump by a piece of clothes line. The boys
called him a monkey-bear, but though his face was like that of a bear
he was neither a monkey nor a bear. He was in fact a sloth; his legs
were not made for walking, but for climbing, and although he had
strong claws and a very muscular forearm, he was always slow in his
movements. He was very silent and unsociable, never joined in the
amusements of the other domestics, and when Philip brought him a
bunch of tender young gum-tree shoots for his breakfast in the
morning, he did not even say "thanks" or smile, or show the least
gratitude. He never spoke except at dead of night, when he was
exchanging compliments with some other bear up a gum tree in the
forty-acre paddock. And such compliments! Their voices were
frightful, something between a roar and a groan, and although Philip
was a great linguist he was ne