105 
JACK: A BIOGRAPHY. 
be put aside for a moment in favour of anyone else. The very 
expression of the bird’s eyes was human at those times — so 
loving, so gentle, so absolutely content. 
Truth compels me to say that the revulsion of feeling from 
depression and loneliness to intense happiness frequently 
proved too much for Jack’s moral equilibrium, and he would go 
straight from my presence, where he had been proving himself 
almost more than a mere bird, to plan and carry out some 
impish trick against some unoffending member of the household. 
But there was nothing underhand about Jack. When he 
was in mischief he assumed a manner I knew, and everyone 
knew, and Jack knew they knew, boded ill for the peace of the 
household ; but he never sought to disguise his manner, or to 
deceive the family as to his intentions. 
My people would occasionally say — “ You’d better come and 
look after your bird, he’s awfully busy about something out here, 
I suspect it’s mischief.” No need for me to call Jack twice if 
he were within hearing. One decided shout of “Jack,” and a 
little pause, then Jack’s voice would answer “ Wha-a-at ? ” and in 
a second or two he would come drifting sideways into view. 
“ What are you doing, sir ? ” and away Jack would go, back 
to the scene of action again, looking over his shoulder to see if 
I were following him, talking to me, and telling me all about it ; 
chuckling with amusement at the fun of it. Arrived at the 
place. Jack sometimes had a moment’s anxiety as to what I 
should think of his work, and would peer up into my face as 
much as to say “ Don’t be too hard on a fellow ; it was such fun.” 
And a reproachful “ O Jack, how could you be so naughty ? ” 
would send him off into the shrubs, not to reappear till some 
time after, when he would assume a jaunty and indifferent 
manner, as if he had been engaged in interesting business all the 
while — and not hiding from disgrace and miserable, O ! dear no ! 
Jack’s pranks were not, as a rule, unforgivable, but he could 
lose his temper and try to be nast3^ and then he generally 
succeeded. One spring morning there was a great planting out 
of annuals, and Jack’s ofificiousness in fetching and carrying was 
becoming wearying, especially as he generally fetched what was 
not wanted and carried away what was. So someone pounced 
upon him ruthlessly and shut him up in his bedroom — the old 
disused laundry — for a while. That person forgot that the 
laundry window was wide, and that jackdaws’ eyes are keen. 
All the morning the planting went merrily on : little clumps of 
asters, zinnias, &c., were dibbled in, a neatly-written label put 
to each clump, and large pots inverted over the young plants to 
shade them from the scorching spring sun. And all that lovely 
morning Jack spent in his bedroom (the resources of which he 
had quite exhausted the first wet day he spent indoors) watching 
and waiting. Presently the luncheon bell rang, and I went out 
of the house, where I had been occupied since breakfast, to see 
what had been done in the out-of-door world. “ Where’s 
