They cannot empty an egg but they turn into the shell, and lie down!" The words drew my eyes from the woman to the raven.
I saw no raven, but the librarian--the same slender elderly man, in a rusty black coat, large in the body and long in the tails.

I had seen only his back before; now for the first time I saw his face.

It was so thin that it showed the shape of the bones under it, suggesting the skulls his last-claimed profession must have made him familiar with.

But in truth I had never before seen a face so alive, or a look so keen or so friendly as that in his pale blue eyes, which yet had a haze about them as if they had done much weeping.
"You knew I was not a raven!" he said with a smile.
"I knew you were Mr.Raven," I replied; "but somehow I thought you a bird too!" "What made you think me a bird ?" "You looked a raven, and I saw you dig worms out of the earth with your beak." "And then ?" "Toss them in the air." "And then ?" "They grew butterflies, and flew away." "Did you ever see a raven do that?
I told you I was a sexton!" "Does a sexton toss worms in the air, and turn them into butterflies ?" "Yes." "I never saw one do it!" "You saw me do it!--But I am still librarian in your house, for I never was dismissed, and never gave up the office.

Now I am librarian here as well." "But you have just told me you were sexton here!" "So I am.