'My dears,' he said,
'the weather is unusually warm for the time of year, and I don't
feel quite myself. Do you know, for a moment I really thought that
that remarkable bird of yours had spoken and said it was the
Phoenix, and, what's more, that I'd believed it.'
'So it did, sir,' said Cyril, 'and so did you.'
'It really--Allow me.'
A bell was rung. The porter appeared.
'Mackenzie,' said the gentleman, 'you see that golden bird?'
'Yes, sir.'
The other breathed a sigh of relief.
'It IS real, then?'
'Yes, sir, of course, sir. You take it in your hand, sir,' said
the porter, sympathetically, and reached out his hand to the
Phoenix, who shrank back on toes curved with agitated indignation.
'Forbear!' it cried; 'how dare you seek to lay hands on me?'
The porter saluted.
'Beg pardon, sir,' he said, 'I thought you was a bird.'
'I AM a bird--THE bird--the Phoenix.'
'Of course you are, sir,' said the porter. 'I see that the first
minute, directly I got my breath, sir.'
'That will do,' said the gentleman. 'Ask Mr Wilson and Mr Sterry
to step up here for a moment, please.'
Mr Sterry and Mr Wilson were in their turn overcome by
amazement--quickly followed by conviction. To the surprise of the
children every one in the office took the Phoenix at its word, and
after the first shock of surprise it seemed to be perfectly natural
to every one that the Phoenix should be alive, and that, passing
through London, it should call at its temple.
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