Thus it happened that when the Scythia left the wharf that day, near a certain man and woman, who stood together on deck, there was a little black shape sitting on some luggage. One of the hands began to take up the bags.
"Hullo! Where sh'll I stow the bird?" he called out.
Lawrence turned, and his face darkened. But a hand was laid softly on his arm.
"Dear," said his wife's voice, "let us call the crow our mascot. Surely you can't blame him because he won't forsake us."
Then Prudence promised the man that she would pay him well if he would take care of Devil during the voyage.
She glanced laughingly at her companion.
"I couldn't give him away, he wouldn't leave us, and I can't kill him."
Lawrence's face cleared. He put his hand over the hand on his arm. "Nothing matters," he said, in an undertone, "so long as we are together."