e broken wing, so that it would heal quickly.

The crow had jet black feathers, but there was a pretty purplish and
violet gloss, or sheen, on its back and wings, and its eyes were bright
and had a knowing look in them. They were hazel-brown in color, and the
bird had a queer way of turning his head on one side to look at Twinkle
with his right eye, and then twisting it the other side that he might
see her with his left eye. She often wondered if she looked the same to
both eyes, or if each one made her seem different.

She named her pet "Jim Crow" because papa said that all crows were
called Jim, although he never could find out the reason. But the name
seemed to fit her pet as well as any, so Twinkle never bothered about
the reason.

Having no cage to keep him in, and fearing he would run away, the girl
tied a strong cord around one of Jim Crow's legs, and the other end of
the cord she fastened to the round of a chair--or to the table-leg--when
they were in the house. The crow would run all around, as far as the
string would let him go; but he couldn't get away. And when they went
out of doors Twinkle held the end of the cord in her hand, as one leads
a dog, and Jim Crow would run along in front of her, and then stop and
wait. And when she came near he'd run on again, screaming "Caw! Caw!" at
the top of his shrill little voice.

He soon came to know he belonged to Twinkle, and would often lie in her
lap or perch upon her shoulder. And whenever she entered the room where
he was he would say, "Caw--caw!" to her, in pleading tones, until she
picked him up or took some notice of him.

It was wonderful how quickly a bird that had always lived wild and free
seemed to become tame and gentle. Twinkle's father said that was because
he was so young, and because his broken wing kept him from flying in the
air and rejoining his fellows. But Jim Crow wasn't as tame as he seemed,
and he had a very wicked and ungrateful disposition, as you will
presently learn.

For a few weeks, however, he was as nice a pet as any little girl could
wish for. He got into mischief occasionally, and caused mamma some
annoyance when he waded into a pan of milk or jumped upon the dinner
table and ate up papa's pumpkin pie before Twinkle could stop him. But
all pets are more or less trouble, at times, so Jim Crow escaped with a
few severe scoldings from mamma, which never seemed to worry him in the
least or make him a bit unhappy.

Chapter II