He
put it between the breadths of matting, and then began to pound on it
as usual. Pretty soon he hit the unburnt end and it went off with a
loud crack, as parlor matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two feet into the
air, nearly frightened out of his wits; and I was frightened, too, for
I feared he might set the house on fire.
Often when I got up from my chair a shower of the bird's playthings
would fall from his various hiding-places about my dress,-nails,
matches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and other things. Then he had to
begin his work all over again.
Jakie liked a small ball or a marble. His game was to give it a hard
peck and see it roll. If it rolled away from him, he ran after it and
pecked again; but sometimes it rolled toward him, and then he bounded
into the air as if he thought it would bite. And what was funny, he was
always offended at this conduct of the ball, and went off sulky for a
while.
He was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm outside the windows made
him wild. He would fly around the room, squawking at the top of his
voice; and the horrible tin horns the boys liked to blow at
Thanksgiving and Christmas drove him frantic.
Pages:
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692