"And I am fifteen. Ah! I shall be an old woman when Reginald comes back,
and he won't know his little Nannette any more!" Then the Raven said
something to Nannette, and she laughed, and his "Croak! croak!" sounded
very like "Yes! yes!" It did, indeed.

Four years after Reginald went away, a very singular thing happened. Two
pairs of strange Ravens came to Raven's Rock, and built nests and reared
their young there. Nannette's Raven went very often to see them, and
seemed to be altogether a changed bird. For though he was getting near
sixty years old, he began to plume his feathers, and to sit continually
at the cottage door, watching, watching, watching, as if he expected
somebody.

It affected Nannette at last. "I think, aunt," she said, timidly, "that
Reginald must be coming home. Just look at that bird!"

"Nonsense, child! How should he know?"

And indeed I don't understand how this wonderful bird knew, but he did;
for that very night, just as Nannette was going to light the candle, she
heard Reginald's step on the crisp snow, and the old lady heard it, and
the Raven heard it, and there was the gladdest meeting you can possibly
imagine; and if ever a bird said "I told you so," that Raven said it at
least a hundred times that night.

Besides, Reginald had come home with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds
of pounds; and he married lovely Nannette, and rebuilt Ravensfield; and
dear, patient Aunt Mabel, after sixty years of waiting, went back to the
stately old house, and ended her days in the little parlor where she had
kissed her brother Stephen farewell.

As for the Raven, he showed himself to be a bird of a very aristocratic
nature. He stepped proudly about the fine halls and gardens, and never
went near the little cottage or the village streets again. He lived
until his fine plumage began to turn gray, and Nannette's oldest son was
almost big enough to put on a scarlet coat and a sword; and when he was
nearly eighty years old he died on Nannette's knee, his foot in her
hand, and the last thing he was conscious of was her tears dropping upon
it.

Very likely, children, some extremely wise men and women will say, "I
would not believe too much of this story, boys and girls." But when you
have lived as long as I have lived, you will know that extremely wise
men and women _don't know everything_. At any rate, there are plenty of
Ravens on Raven's Rock now, and plenty of Ravensfields in the splendid
castle; and i