“What, you’re looking at my lodger’s birds, Mr. Jarndyce?” The old man had come by little and little into the room, until he now touched my guardian with his elbow, and looked close up into his face with his spectacled eyes. “It’s one of her strange ways, that she’ll never tell the names of these birds if she can help it, though she named ‘em all.” This was in a whisper. “Shall I run ‘em over, Flite?” he asked aloud, winking at us and pointing at her as she turned away, affecting to sweep the grate. “If you like,” she answered hurriedly. The old man, looking up at the cages, after another look at us, went through the list. “Hope, Joy, Youth, Peace, Rest, Life, Dust, Ashes, Waste, Want, Ruin, Despair, Madness, Death, Cunning, Folly, Words, Wigs, Rags, Sheepskin, Plunder, Precedent, Jargon, Gammon, and Spinach. That’s the whole collection,” said the old man, “all cooped up together, by my noble and learned brother.” “This is a bitter wind!” muttered my guardian. “When my noble and learned brother gives his Judgment, they’re to be let go free” said Krook, winking at us again.” NamesJudgmentBirdsLodger Book:Bleak House Source: Bleak House