“He was banished the next day, much to your father’s sorrow, but this was the climax of many trials, and your grandmother’s endurance was at an end. I must say I was sorry, but when I came home from my next trip I brought a dog to your father and he was comforted, for he could keep the dog out-of-doors and could make a great companion of him.”
“I wish I could remember my father,” said Joanne wistfully.
“I wish you could, my dear,” returned her grandfather gravely. “You are much like him.”
“Temper and all?” asked Joanne with a little deprecating smile.
Her grandfather nodded, then answered. “He learned to control his temper just as you are trying to do.”
“Oh, Grad, do you really notice that?”
“Of course; I am not blind.”
“It’s a great comfort to know that my father was just as fiery as I am, and that he did improve. Well, Grad, I suppose I must give up Jim Crow if Gradda says so, but I hope I can keep him till he gets well. Will you put in a good word for him?”
“I will, for I don’t think he can do much damage with only one leg to stand on.”
Mrs. Selden yielded gracefully when the question was put before her. She was too kind-hearted to do otherwise and really showed great interest in the wounded bird. As for Joanne, her trials began that very first night when the crow insisted upon leaving the nest she had made for him in the basket, and hobbled about the room making strange noises, and getting hold of all manner of things, till, after being awakened many times, Joanne finally shut him up in her bathroom. She discovered him the next morning in the act of carrying off a teaspoon which he had found on the wash-stand, to which place he had flown.