“No, you’re not,” cried Cora, almost shaking him; and when he cried she called him naughty, and said if he did not stop he should have no supper. This made him cry all the more, and Cora, feeling in her angry mood that he deserved severe punishment, threw away his supper and put him to bed. Then all that could be heard were Ruky’s low sobs and the snappish clicks of Cora’s needles, as she sat knitting, with her back to him. He could not sleep, for his eyelids were scalded with tears, and his plaintive “Cor! Cor!” had reached his sister’s ears in vain. She never once looked up from those gleaming knitting-needles, nor even gave him his good-night kiss. It grew late. The uncle did not return. At last Cora, sulky and weary, locked the cottage door, blew out her candle, and lay down beside her brother. The poor little fellow tried to win a forgiving word, but she was too ill-natured to grant it. In vain he whispered, “Cor, Cor!” He even touched her hand over and over again with his lips, hoping she would turn toward him, and, with a loving kiss, murmur, as usual, “Good night, little bird.” Instead of this, she jerked her arm angrily away, saying: “Oh, stop your pecking and go to sleep! I wish you were a crow in earnest, and then I’d have some peace.” After this, Ruky was silent. His heart drooped within him as he wondered what this “peace” was that his sister wished for so often, and why he must go away before it could come to her. Soon, Cora, who had rejoiced in the sudden calm, heard a strange fluttering. In an instant she saw by the starlight a dark object circle once or twice in the air above her, then dart suddenly through the open window. Astonished that Ruky had not shouted with delight at the strange visitor, or else clung to her neck in fear, she turned to see if he had fallen asleep. No wonder that she started up, horror-stricken,—Ruky was not there! His empty place was still warm; perhaps he had slid softly from the bed. With trembling haste she lighted the candle, and peered into every corner. The boy was not to be found! Then those fearful words rang in her ears: “_I wish you were a crow in earnest!_” Cora rushed to the door, and, with straining gaze, looked out into the still night. “Ruky! Ruky!” she screamed. There was a slight stir in the low-growing tree. “Ruky, darling, come back!” “Caw, caw!” answered a harsh voice from the tree. Something black seemed to spin out of it, and then, in great sweeping circles, sailed upward, until finally it settled upon one of the loftiest trees in the forest. “Caw, caw!” it screamed, fiercely. The girl shuddered, but, with outstretched arms, cried out: “Oh, Ruky, if it is _you_, come back to poor Cor!”