Towhichthebird，balancinghimselfontiptoe，asitwere，andmovinghisbodyupanddowninasortofgravedance，rejoined，’I’madevil，I’madevil，I’madevil，’andflappedhiswingsagainsthissidesasifhewereburstingwithlaughter。Barnabyclappedhishands，andfairlyrolleduponthegroundinanecstasyofdelight。
’Strangecompanions，sir，’saidthelocksmith，shakinghishead，andlookingfromonetotheother。’Thebirdhasallthewit。’
’Strangeindeed！’saidEdward，holdingouthisforefingertotheraven，who，inacknowledgmentoftheattention，madeadiveatitimmediatelywithhisironbill。’Isheold？’
’Amereboy，sir，’repliedthelocksmith。’Ahundredandtwenty，orthereabouts。Callhimdown，Barnaby，myman。’
’Callhim！’echoedBarnaby，sittinguprightuponthefloor，andstaringvacantlyatGabriel，ashethrusthishairbackfromhisface。’Butwhocanmakehimcome！Hecallsme，andmakesmegowherehewill。Hegoesonbefore，andIfollow。He’sthemaster，andI’mtheman。Isthatthetruth，Grip？’