Then, as if he had well considered the
sentiment, and regarded it as apposite to birthdays, he cried, 'Never
say die!' a great many times, and flapped his wings for emphasis.
The widow tried to make light of Barnaby's remark, and endeavoured to
divert his attention to some new subject; too easy a task at all times,
as she knew. His supper done, Barnaby, regardless of her entreaties,
stretched himself on the mat before the fire; Grip perched upon his
leg, and divided his time between dozing in the grateful warmth, and
endeavouring (as it presently appeared) to recall a new accomplishment
he had been studying all day.
A long and profound silence ensued, broken only by some change of
position on the part of Barnaby, whose eyes were still wide open and
intently fixed upon the fire; or by an effort of recollection on the
part of Grip, who would cry in a low voice from time to time, 'Polly put
the ket--' and there stop short, forgetting the remainder, and go off in
a doze again.
After a long interval, Barnaby's breathing grew more deep and regular,
and his eyes were closed. But even then the unquiet spirit of the raven
interposed. 'Polly put the ket--' cried Grip, and his master was broad
awake again.
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