I love all the birds,” said Kitty, “but the Tramp is my very own bird.
Enter Michael, Neighbour, an old man and a lad, pushing the Tramp before them.
George stuck close to the Tramp all the balance of that day.
Tramp, the cat, would probably have told the same story if he had been able to talk.
And then to where he lay came Vincente, the Tramp Juggler, great in his line.
I have never had and never expect to have occasion to do that to a Tramp Boy.
In the meantime the Tramp Boys had moved, bag and baggage, to Newtown.
There was a despairing wail in the voice of the Tramp Boy now.
He waved his hand as indicating that it was the property of the Tramp Club.
And she did, after the Tramp added her drawing facilities to those of the others.