'Don't you recollect it was but a week or so
ago, and that summer, autumn, and winter have to pass before it comes
again?'
'I remember that it has been so till now,' said Barnaby. 'But I think
to-day must be my birthday too, for all that.'
She asked him why? 'I'll tell you why,' he said. 'I have always seen
you--I didn't let you know it, but I have--on the evening of that day
grow very sad. I have seen you cry when Grip and I were most glad; and
look frightened with no reason; and I have touched your hand, and felt
that it was cold--as it is now. Once, mother (on a birthday that was,
also), Grip and I thought of this after we went upstairs to bed, and
when it was midnight, striking one o'clock, we came down to your door to
see if you were well. You were on your knees. I forget what it was you
said. Grip, what was it we heard her say that night?'
'I'm a devil!' rejoined the raven promptly.
'No, no,' said Barnaby. 'But you said something in a prayer; and when
you rose and walked about, you looked (as you have done ever since,
mother, towards night on my birthday) just as you do now. I have found
that out, you see, though I am silly. So I say you're wrong; and this
must be my birthday--my birthday, Grip!'
The bird received this information with a crow of such duration as a
cock, gifted with intelligence beyond all others of his kind, might
usher in the longest day with.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246