CHAPTER V
AS THE CROW FLIES
MICHAEL was trimming the grape vines, ably assisted by Dick, who sidled along the trellis, keeping up a fluent stream of inarticulate advice and trying, apparently, to get his horny toes or his long black bill cut off by the snapping shears.
"Oh, get along with you," cried Michael at last, stung to impatience by having cut off the wrong twig in his effort to avoid injuring the inquisitive bird. "Go on about your business and leave me be."
He gave his black companion a friendly cuff that pushed him off the trellis and launched him into flight. Dick swooped across the garden, where Betsey stood laughing at him and at Michael's irritation, and flew to the top of the stone wall where he sat scolding with all his might.
"He is not wise to do that," commented Miss Miranda. "When he caws so loudly he is apt to bring the wild crows and they do not like him."
Friendly as Dick was with all members of the human race, he was plainly not on good terms with
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