“Stay,” said she; “we are alone and unseen. Your presence is not disagreeable to me. Destiny, if it keeps aliens apart, has at least brought you to me. Day changes to night, summer to winter; old trees wear out (so my grandmother tells me) and we are obliged to take to new ones. Can it be that the nature of our race never changes too? Is there not a future to be realized when the narrowing bonds of our society may be relaxed, and when in ever-widening circles our race may stir the world with a new life? And may it not be you--you the outcast and philosopher--who are destined to lead the van in this glorious movement?” “I!” he replied. “Can it be so? But not alone--not alone.” And he glanced at her curiously. “Hush,” she hurriedly whispered; “I heard a distant caw. Meet me here again to-morrow when the sun is at its highest.” And so they parted, to meditate on the destinies of the ages, and the enfranchisement of rook-society. When Jetsom returned to his rookery he found that his absence had not been noticed, so occupied was every one with the business of wooing and stick-collecting; and he kept his appointment next day without much misgiving. What fears he had were easily overcome by the thought that there might be a great and happy future in store for him if he could induce his new acquaintance to become his partner, and to help him to carry out in practice the ideas that were floating through their minds. He little knew, poor bird, what was really in store for him. Though he had not been aware of it, one eye had all this time been upon him. Old Gaffer, who was always on the look-out for his chance of revenge, had seen him leave the meadow, and noticed his late return; and when he made quietly off again the next day, Gaffer as quietly followed him. From a tree near the trysting-place he saw Jetsom meet his friend, and knew in a twinkling that his chance had come. He watched them for a while as they walked about the meadow together, deep in philosophic converse; but when they flew up into a tree (luckily it was not Gaffer’s) with some little serious attempt to play with each other, he felt he might go home safely and consider what was the best plan to bring this wilful pair to shame and ruin. Slipping warily out of his tree he flew slowly homewards, and before he reached the rookery had made up his mind as to what should be done. He mentioned to a few old friends, the ancient dignitaries of the settlement, that he wished to consult them at once on an important matter; and a meeting was accordingly held on a tree hard by. An aged and highly respected bird, with two white feathers in his wing, was voted into the chair, who, taking his perch on a prominent bough, requested Gaffer to open his mind.