BIRD STORIES 



Thus, long after he would have been weaned, for his 

 own good, from such care, had he remained wild, Corbie, 

 the tame crow, claimed protection with cunning, cud- 

 dling ways that taught the Blue-eyed Girl and her bro- 

 ther and the Grown-Ups, too, something about crows 

 that many people never even guess. For all their rollick- 

 ing care-free ways, there is, hidden beneath their black 

 feathers, an affection very tender and lasting; and when 

 they are given the friendship of humans, they find 

 touching ways of showing how deep their trust can be. 



Before the summer was over. Corbie had as. famous a 

 collection as his great grandfather. The children knew 

 where he kept it, and used sometimes to climb up to 

 look at his playthings. They never disturbed them ex- 

 cept to take out the knitting-needle, thimble, spoons, or 

 things like that, which were needed in the house. The 

 bright penny someone had given him, the shiny nails, 

 the brass-headed tacks, the big white feather, the yellow 

 marble, all the bits of colored glass, and an old watch, 

 they left where he put them; for they thought that he 

 loved his things, or he would not have hidden them to- 

 gether; and they thought, and so do I, that he had as 

 much right to his treasures to look at and care for as the 

 Brown-eyed Boy had to his collection of pretty stones 

 and the Blue-eyed Girl to the flowers in her wild garden. 



After his feathers were grown, in the spring, Corbie 



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