His pull at the bell was answered by that gentleman himself, who, not being an early riser, had not yet eaten his breakfast.
He assisted Oscar to carry the case through the hall and place it upon the little side-table on which it was to stand, and, when the sheet had been removed, he stood off and looked at it critically. Then he called Miles and all the rest of his family in, to pass judgment upon it.
"It is just what I wanted, Oscar," said Mr. Jackson, at length, "and you could not improve it in any way. It is splendid, and I am entirely satisfied. Hold on, here; what's this?"
He walked close up to the case, and placed his finger on one of the panes of glass opposite a bird in resplendent plumage, with a green and purple crest, marked with two narrow lines of white.
"That's a very pretty bird!" continued Mr. Jackson; "but what is he doing up there? You wouldn't put any woodcock or snipe in the tree, because you said they didn't belong there; and now you've gone and put a duck in it! What sort of work is that?"
"That bird does belong there," said Oscar. "I shot him out of a tree."
Mr. Jackson was well posted in drugs, but he knew nothing of natural history.
He looked toward Miles for an explanation, but as the latter was no better acquainted with birds and their habits than his uncle was, he could give him no information.
"I'll take him out of there, if you wish me to do so, and put a grouse in his place," said Oscar.
"Oh, no!" replied Mr. Jackson quickly. "If he belongs there, let him stay; but I never saw a duck in a tree. Sit down, and have some coffee with us."