One thing was certain. The stranger was bold as brass. He looked Mr. Crow up and down. And then he said:
"You're a gay old bird! What's your name?"
Now, no doubt some people would have been angry. But Mr. Crow rather liked to be called gay, because he couldn't help looking solemn. And most people knew he was very old. And everybody was aware he was a bird. So he said hoarsely:
"My name is Mister Crow—and please don't forget the Mister."
The stranger put on his flat-topped red cap and touched the visor smartly with his right hand, in a military manner.
Old Mr. Crow couldn't help admiring the newcomer's clothes. He wore a red coat trimmed with gold braid, and bright blue trousers.
"That's a handsome suit that you have on," Mr. Crow observed. "I shouldn't mind having one like it myself."
The stranger seemed pleased. And he touched his cap again.
"I'm afraid you can't have a suit like this," he said. "It's a uniform—that's what it is. And, of course, a plain Mister like you can't wear a uniform. But I wear one because I'm a soldier."
Old Mr. Crow was disappointed. But he soon brightened up. Though he wasn't a soldier himself, at least it was pleasant to know one. So he decided to forget that he had been angry with the stranger.