her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to

Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of

the birds—a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and

prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger

could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet

and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my

sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke

loose and fluttered off among the others.


“‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says

she.


“‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me

one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.’


“‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for

you—Jem’s bird, we call it. It’s the big white one over

yonder. There’s twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for

us, and two dozen for the market.’


“‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all

the same to you, I’d rather have that one I was handling just now.’


“‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she,

‘and we fattened it expressly for you.’


“‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take

it now,’ said I.


“‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed.

‘Which is it you want, then?’


“‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of

the flock.’


“‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’


“Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the

way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was

easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a

knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of

the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird,

rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into the back yard. There was not

a bird to be seen there.