We all ascended the ladder, and when we had got to the roof, there, in a leaden valley between two angles, we discovered a hoard of bright things, among others the cases and spectacles belonging to Dr. Millbank!
“What do you say now, doctor?” triumphantly asked my father, extending his hands over the magpie’s storehouse and handing him back his property.
“That I will never keep a magpie,” he returned, shaking his head, placing his hands behind the tail of his long clerical-cut coat, and blushing and laughing.
During a little conversation between us on the top of the loft the saucy bird returned, looking unutterable things and screaming when he saw us there and his hoard disturbed.
When the doctor held up his glasses, and was about to admonish him, the bird turned tail upon us and flew off, croaking “Sho! Sho!” and we did not see him for two days afterward. He was evidently deeply offended; indeed, Jack was not the same bird afterward, and was even cold and indifferent to the caress of my father; as for “Master Charles,” he dare not touch Jack’s tail.
On taking his departure, the doctor, smiling good-naturedly, remarked:
“I assure you, Mr. Mitford, until now I set down all these wonderful stories of animals that we meet with as fabulous. But your bird, sir, has taught me a wholesome lesson, that things may nevertheless be true, whether we believe them or not; and, further, I have had a warning not to be too hasty in coming to conclusions with boys home for the holidays upon circumstantial evidence; and still further, that as long as I wear spectacles I will never keep a magpie.”
We each and all had a hearty laugh, a shake of the hand, and the doctor took his departure. When he next loses his spectacles he will inquire if there is a magpie around.