148 THE LAND OF PLUCK

called her — was nearly sixteen years old, but her brother
had seen the forest turn yellow only four times. She was,
therefore, almost mother and sister in one. The little fel-
low was her companion night and day. Together they ate
and slept, and — when Cora was not at work in the cot-
tage — together they rambled in the wood, or floated in
their little skiff upon the lake.

tuky had bright, dark eyes, and the glossy blackness of
his hair made his cheeks look even rosier than they were.
He had funny ways for a boy, Cora thought., The quick,
bird-like jerks of his raven-black head, his stately baby
gait, and his habit of pecking at his food, as she called it,
often made his sister laugh. Young as he was, the little
fellow had learned to mount to the top of a low-branching
tree near the cottage, though he could not always get down
alone. Sometimes when, perched in the thick foliage, he
would scream, “Cor! Cor! Come, help me down!” his
sister would answer, as she ran out laughing, “ Yes, little
Crow! I’m coming.”

Perhaps it was because he reminded her of a crow that
Cora called him her little bird. This was when she was
good-natured and willing to let him see how much she
loved him. But in her cloudy moments, as the uncle
called them, Cora was another girl. Everything seemed
ugly to her, or out of tune. Even Ruky was a trial; and,
instead of giving him a kind word, she would scold and
grumble until he would steal from the cottage door, and,
jumping lightly from the door-step, seek the shelter of his
tree. Once safely perched among its branches he knew
she would finish her work, forget her ill-humor, and be