She was worn, and altered, full of grief, and heavy-hearted; but the same to him.
'Mother,' he said, after a long silence: 'how long,--how many days and nights,--shall I be kept here ?' 'Not many, dear.

I hope not many.' 'You hope! Ay, but your hoping will not undo these chains.

I hope, but they don't mind that.

Grip hopes, but who cares for Grip ?' The raven gave a short, dull, melancholy croak.

It said 'Nobody,' as plainly as a croak could speak.
'Who cares for Grip, except you and me ?' said Barnaby, smoothing the bird's rumpled feathers with his hand.