The poor little fellow tried to win a forgiving word, but she was too ill-natured to grant it. In vain he whispered, “Cor, Cor!” He even touched her hand over and over again with his lips, hoping she would turn toward him, and, with a loving kiss, murmur, as usual, “Good night, little bird.”
Instead of this, she jerked her arm angrily away, saying:
“Oh, stop your pecking and go to sleep! I wish you were a crow in earnest, and then I’d have some peace.”
After this, Ruky was silent. His heart drooped within him as he wondered what this “peace” was that his sister wished for so often, and why he must go away before it could come to her.
Soon, Cora, who had rejoiced in the sudden calm, heard a strange fluttering. In an instant she saw by the starlight a dark object circle once or twice in the air above her, then dart suddenly through the open window.
Astonished that Ruky had not shouted with delight at the strange visitor, or else clung to her neck in fear, she turned to see if he had fallen asleep.
No wonder that she started up, horror-stricken,—Ruky was not there!
His empty place was still warm; perhaps he had slid softly from the bed. With trembling haste she lighted the candle, and peered into every corner. The boy was not to be found!
Then those fearful words rang in her ears:
“I wish you were a crow in earnest!”