He mounted on the bench beside Ambrose and stretched his arm up through the boughs of the tree.
“He knows my voice,” he said. “Come, then, Jack.”
Jack’s only reply was an angry hiss, and a peck delivered at the doctor’s hand with the whole force of his body.
“You see he knows me,” said the doctor smiling, “he always does that. He’s a little out of temper just now.”
“Hadn’t you better throw a duster over his head?” said Ambrose eagerly; “that’s a very good way to catch them.”
“If he’d only let me scratch his poll,” said the doctor, “he’d be all right directly, but I can’t get at him.”
They were now joined by the doctor’s housekeeper, who came out with her arms folded in her apron to see what was going on. She stood looking at the doctor’s vain exertions a moment, and then said:
“Best take away t’other, master, he’ll never come to ye else.”
“Why, I wonder we never thought of that!” said the doctor at once, lifting the cage off the bough. “I’m much obliged to you, Mrs Gill. Perhaps you’d kindly take it indoors out of sight, and then we’ll try again.”
Mrs Gill departed with the care, and the doctor once more reached up his hand to the jackdaw.