Mary still stared at what Aunt Nan called “the raven,” and wondered. “Under which wing am I to look?” she thought. Finally she gathered courage to reach up her hand toward the right wing, very cautiously. She half expected that the creature might come alive and nip her. But nothing happened. There was nothing under the right wing but moth-eaten feathers, some of which came off in Mary’s fingers.

“I’ll try the other wing,” said Mary to herself. She poked her fingers under the old bird’s left wing. Yes! There was something there. Something dangled by a hidden string from the wing-bone of Aunt Nan’s raven. Mary pulled, and presently something came away. In her hand she held a little gold watch and chain. On the case was engraved the letter C, which was of course as truly Mary’s initial as it had been Aunt Nan Corliss’s.

“Why, it is Aunt Nan’s watch, sure enough!” said Dr. Corliss, beaming. “Well, Mary! I declare, that is something worth while. You[15] needed a watch, my dear. But I don’t know when I could ever have bought a gold one for you. This is a beauty.”

[15]

“It’s a bird of a watch!” piped John, wagging his head at the crow.

“I like it better than wriggly snakes,” said Mrs. Corliss, smiling.

“Oh, how good Aunt Nan was to leave it here for me!” said Mary. “I am beginning to like Aunt Nan, in spite of her queerness.”

“I like this kind of joke she plays on you,” said John enviously. “I wish she’d play one like that on me, too. I say, Mary, do you suppose there are any more secrets hidden in your old library? Let’s look now.”

“I wonder!” said Mary, looking curiously about the dingy room. “But I don’t want to look any further now. I am satisfied. Oh, Mumsie! Just look!” Mary put the chain of the new watch around her neck, tucked the little chronometer into her belt, and trotted away to see the effect in the crooked old mirror of the parlor.

John wanted to take down the crow and examine him further.

“Come along, John,” said his father, pushing the little brother toward the door. “This is[16] Mary’s room, you know. We aren’t ever to poke around here without her leave, mind you.”

[16]

“No,” said John reluctantly. “But I do wish—!” And he cast a longing glance back over his shoulder as 

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