When they had finished tea, Charley said, “We will go out of doors and see our old raven, Grip.”

There were all sorts of odd places outside of this rambling old house which Charley said “just suited him.”

In a little enclosure by the side of the kitchen garden was Grip’s home.  He was kept at night, for safety, in a large wooden cage with open bars, something like a hen-coop; but in the day he had his liberty—­although he did not wander far away, for he was very tame.

“He knows all the sounds of the poultry-yard,” said Charley, “only I expect he won’t show off when we want him to do so.  One morning, he had not been let out of his cage, and he wanted his breakfast.  He called ‘Cluck, cluck, cluck,’ just as a hen calls her chickens.  In fact some chickens really thought it was their mother calling them, and they ran to Grip!  I am sorry to say he helped himself to one of them; the others were frightened and made their escape.  Ever since then Grip has been in his present quarters; he was too near the poultry-yard before.  Many a time has he cackled like a hen that has laid an egg, so that the maids have gone out to look for the egg.  He will get up into that elm-tree there and crow so exactly like a cock that he will set off all the cocks in the poultry-yard; and, in fact, all the cocks in the neighborhood that are within hearing will start crowing.”

“He knows we are talking about him—­Don’t you, old Grip?”

Grip gave a croak, as much as to say “Yes,” and turned his wise-looking old head, first on one side then on the other, in a very knowing fashion.

The boys were just going, when there was a long loud crow from Grip, exactly like a cock’s, which made them all turn round.

“Before we had Grip we had a jackdaw,” said Charley.  “He was a very clever bird.  He used to go round to the kitchen window every day at a certain hour, for a potato that the cook used to give him.  If it was not ready she would tell him so, and he would go away for a while, but he always came back for it.

“One evening he was shut out of his roosting-place by accident, so he went to the glass doors of the dining-room, which lead into the garden, and tapped on them loudly with his beak till some one went to let him in.  He hopped about the room, and looked as much as to say,—­’I want to be shown to my bedroom.’

“Poor Jacky! he was killed by an accident; and then we had Grip in his stead.

“You know we have a pair of hedgehogs, Tom,” said Charley.  “Well, they’ve got some young ones; suppose we go and see them.”

The boys went into the kitchen garden, and in a thick hedge at the bottom they came to the nest which the hedgehogs had made on the ground.  It had a sort of roof to keep the rain off, and inside it was lined with moss and leaves.

“I never saw a hedgehog,” said Jack.

“Well, now, that is one there,” said Tom.

Jack saw a little creature rather more than nine inches long, with a thick body, a long snout, short legs, and no tail to speak of.  It was covered with spines, and could make itself into a ball whenever it pleased or when it was frightened, and then no dog or beast could touch the little spiky ball.