Whatever else the Vicar had accomplished, he had at least taught this turbulent, difficult nature some self-control. In the Captain's life-time Jack had been a creature of impulses; had bitten and scratched when he was angry and struggled furiously when he was hurt Now he was chronically angry and well accustomed to being hurt; and had learned to set his teeth and wait for his opportunity. It generally came, sooner or later; and he did not often fail to render the offending "grown-ups" as uncomfortable as they had made him.
Billy ran back with the wretched mavis panting and fluttering in a cage of firewood hardly bigger than itself. So Jack walked home with the cage under his arm, and, slipping into the house unobserved, hid the bird in his bedroom..
After supper he said good-night, and carried his books upstairs, telling the Vicar that he had lessons to prepare for Monday's school. His room was small and low, but he liked it better than any other in the house, because it had windows facing east and west, so that he could see the sun both rise and set. When he had locked his door he took the cage from its hiding-place and set it on the western window-sill.
"All right, you little fool!" he grumbled to the terrified bird as it shrank up against the bars. "Keep your hair on! It's me hell pitch into, not you."
He put into the cage a bit of watercress which he had slipped inside his jacket at tea-time. But the mavis would only flutter desperately and beat its wings against the bars. Jack sat down on the sill beside it, turning his back to the Sunset, and considered what to do next.
His first idea had been to keep the bird, and tame it.