SOMETHING LOST
It may seem a strange thing for old Mr. Crow to have
had no other name—such as John, or James,
or Josephus. But that was the way he preferred
it to be. Indeed, his parents had given him another
name, years before. But Mr. Crow did not like
it. And after he grew up he dropped the name.
To tell the truth, the reason for his coming to Pleasant
Valley, in the beginning, was because no one knew him
there. And though his new friends thought it
odd that he should be called simply “Mr. Crow,”
he was satisfied.
Of course, that was when he was younger. As the
years passed he became known as “old Mr. Crow.”
But no one called him that except behind his back.
And since he knew nothing of that, it never annoyed
him in the least.
Now, Mr. Crow had spent a good many pleasant seasons
in Pleasant Valley. And nobody had ever found
out much about him. But at last there came a
day when he was very much upset. He was roaming
through the woods on a sunny afternoon when someone
called to him.
He stopped. And presently a person in a bright
blue coat came hurrying up. It was a noisy fellow
known as Jasper Jay, who was new in the neighborhood.
“I thought I recognized you,” he shouted
to Mr. Crow. “As soon as I saw you fly
past I said to myself, ‘That looks like Cousin—’”
Mr. Crow stopped him just in time. It was true
that the two were cousins. One look at their
big feet and their big bills would have told you that.
Now, Mr. Crow sometimes saw Jasper on the trips he
made each fall and spring. And Jasper knew Mr.
Crow’s name. He had almost said it, too,
at the top of his boisterous voice.
“What’s the matter?” Jasper Jay
inquired, for Mr. Crow was looking all around.
“Have you lost anything?”
“Yes!” said Mr. Crow. “I’ve
lost my name. And I don’t want to find it
again, either.”
What he was really doing was this: He was peering
about to see whether anybody might be listening.
Jasper Jay’s mouth fell open—he was
so astonished.
“Why, what do you mean, Cousin—”
Mr. Crow stopped him again.
“Don’t call me that!” he said severely.
“I’m known here as ‘Mr. Crow.’
And I’ll thank you to call me by that name and
no other.”
That astonished Jasper Jay all the more, because he
had never known Mr. Crow to thank anybody for anything.
“Well, well!” he murmured faintly.
And then it was Mr. Crow’s turn to be surprised,
for he had never before heard his cousin Jasper speak
in anything but the loudest scream.
Then Mr. Crow explained that he had never liked the
name his parents had given him and that he wanted
nobody in Pleasant Valley to learn what it was.
“You must promise me,” said Mr. Crow—and
there was a dangerous glitter in his eye—“you
must promise me that you’ll never speak my name
again.”
