"If you do not, I must, as I cannot stay longer away from the drawing-room," she said.

Norman at last made up his mind to go. He approached the drawing-room door, but stood outside before he could venture to turn the handle.

"I wish I had not killed that bird," he again said to himself. "It did me no harm, and f.a.n.n.y does not treat me as I thought she would, and as I should have treated her if she had killed a bird of mine which I was fond of. I should have flown at her, and kicked her, and scolded at her day after day, and do not think I should ever have forgiven her; but she does not even say a word to me, and tries to think that I did not wish to hurt the bird. I knew well enough that big book would kill the little creature, and I tried to make it fall just on the top of it. I know I did; and all because I was angry with f.a.n.n.y, and that little Robby, and his grandfather who gave her the bird. I only wish that they all would be very angry. It would be better than treating me as f.a.n.n.y has done."

At last Norman put his hand on the door handle. He turned it, and entering, walked forward till he stood before the three ladies, who were seated at their work.

"Well, Norman, what brings you here? We thought you were out fishing with the laird," said his granny, looking up from under her spectacles.

"I have been and thrown a book on f.a.n.n.y's bird, and it's dead. She asked me to come and tell you," said Norman in a gruff voice; "and, granny, she wants you to go to her. I wish I had not done it, that's all I have got to say."

Having uttered these words he stood stock still, as if he was ready to receive any scoldings the ladies might think fit to administer.

"You have killed f.a.n.n.y's bird!" exclaimed Mrs Leslie and his mamma.

"What, could make you do that?"

"I don't know, I wish I hadn't; but I am not going to say any more,"

answered Norman.

"I will go to poor f.a.n.n.y and try to comfort her, if the bird is really dead," said Mrs Leslie rising.

"Norman, come here," said his mamma, as soon as his granny had left the room. "If you have really killed f.a.n.n.y's bird on purpose, you have done a cruel thing. We are expecting your papa here this afternoon. When he hears of it, he will, I am sure, be very angry, and will punish you as he did the other day, before we left home."

"I do not mind if he does," said Norman. "When I threw the book, I did not care whether I killed the bird or not."

"I am afraid that Norman is a very naughty boy," observed Mrs Maclean, who did not understand the feeling which prompted him to say this. "You know the advice I have often given you, my dear Mary, and I hope when Captain Vallery comes, he will see the necessity of punishing him when he behaves ill, more severely than he appears. .h.i.therto to have done."

Norman looked up at Mrs Maclean with a frown on his brow. He was beginning again to harden his heart, which had been softened by f.a.n.n.y's grief and the gentle way she had spoken to him.

"I don't thank you for saying that, old lady," he thought. "If papa whips me, I shall remember who advised him to do so," and he determined to say no more. In vain his mamma and Mrs Maclean asked him why he had killed the bird, the latter continuing to scold him severely for some minutes.

At last Mrs Leslie came back leading f.a.n.n.y, whose countenance still showed traces of her grief. As she entered the room she heard Mrs Maclean's last remarks.

"Oh, do not scold Norman," she said coming up to her, "do not be angry, dear mamma! I am sure he is very sorry for what he has done, and I want to forgive him; indeed I do, I do not wish that he should be punished in any way."

Norman had not for a moment supposed that his sister would attempt to defend him, and, touched by her forgiving spirit, he ran up to her and took her hand.

"Thank you, f.a.n.n.y," he said, "I do not mind how much scolding I get, for I deserve it, and I wish you would scold me too, but yet I can bear from others much more than I can from you."

f.a.n.n.y only replied by kissing him. She then took his hand.

"Come with me, Norman," she said, "granny has been telling me what we had better do, and if you will help me we will do it at once. Granny has promised that she will not scold you," she whispered in his ear.

Norman cast a half-timid grateful glance at his granny, he did not venture to look at Mrs Maclean and mamma, and willingly accompanied f.a.n.n.y out of the room. "What is it you want to do, f.a.n.n.y?" he asked as she led him back into the study.

"I want you to help me to bury poor Pecksy," she answered. "Granny says, that as long as we see him, we shall be thinking about him, but that if he is buried, we shall by degrees forget all about this sad event, and we will therefore bury him as soon as we can. I propose that we should get the little cart, and and that we should put some boughs on it, and place Pecksy on the top of them, and draw him to a quiet part of the grounds, and that you should dig a grave. We will then put a tomb-stone, and I will write an epitaph to put on it. I have been thinking what I should write, and I have made up my mind to put simply, 'Here lies Pecksy, the feathered friend of f.a.n.n.y Vallery.' If I was to write when he died, or how he was killed, or anything of that sort, it might remind me of what I want to forget. Don't you think that will be very nice."

"Oh yes," answered Norman, "I like your idea. I will dig the grave. I will go and ask the gardener to lend me a spade or a pickaxe, or a hoe or some tool to dig with, and we will set out at once."

The children having formed the plan, at once carried it out. Norman ran off to the gardener and told him what he wanted.

"A spade or a pickaxe is rather too much for you to handle, my laddie,"

he answered, "but you shall have a hoe, which will be big enough to dig a little birdie's grave."

Norman having obtained the tool hurried back with it to the yard, where he found f.a.n.n.y, who had got the cart ready. The gardener understanding what they wanted cut a number of boughs, which placed across the cart formed in their opinion a very appropriate hea.r.s.e.

f.a.n.n.y then went back and brought out poor little Pecksy, followed by Norman, who acted as chief mourner. The bird being placed in due form on its bier, they set forth, f.a.n.n.y drawing the hea.r.s.e, and Norman carrying the hoe over his shoulder. He looked and indeed felt very sad, while the tears dropped from f.a.n.n.y's eyes. Still, perhaps, she was not very unhappy, she could scarcely have been so, with the consciousness that she had acted in a forgiving loving spirit, sorry as she was, however, to have lost her little bird.

They soon reached the spot which f.a.n.n.y had selected for the grave. It was by her granny's advice somewhat out of the way.

"See, Norman," she observed, "it is better here than in a part of the garden we have often to pa.s.s, because we need not come here except perhaps by-and-by when we shall have ceased to think so much about poor little Pecksy."

The trees grew thickly around the spot, but there was an open s.p.a.ce of two or three feet. Here the ground being soft, Norman soon dug a grave.

It was not very deep, nor long, nor wide, but quite large enough for the purpose.

Having deposited the little bird in it, after f.a.n.n.y had given one last glance at her pet, Norman covered it up. They then surrounded the grave with the boughs which had served for a bier, and having finished all they could then think of doing, they returned to the house.

On their way they met the gardener, who had, at the request of their granny, prepared a smooth piece of hard wood. f.a.n.n.y, thanking him, took it into the house, and as she was very neat-handed with her pen, she soon managed to write out the epitaph she proposed.

With this they returned to the tiny grave, and set it up at one end.

"We have one thing more to do though," she said, "come and help me to pick some wild-flowers--the smallest we can find."

Having collected a number, she neatly formed a pretty little wreath.

"The French, and other people I have read of, have the custom of placing wreaths of flowers on the tombs of their friends, and so that is why I thought of putting one on Pecksy's grave," she observed. "I might have picked some from the garden, but I think wild-flowers are more suited to the little bird."

She stood gazing at the spot, after she had deposited the wreath for a minute or two.

"There, we can do no more," she said, with a sigh, as she took Norman's hand. "We will go home now, and, O Norman, if you will try to be a good boy, and love me and everybody else, I shall not mind so much having lost dear little Pecksy."

CHAPTER TEN.

THE DREAM.

Norman walked on by the side of his sister towards the house without speaking. Her heart was too full to say anything more. She found it, indeed, very difficult to forgive her brother from the bottom of her heart, and to love him notwithstanding all he had done.

Norman little thought as he walked by her side how kindly she felt to him. He fancied that she was only thinking about her little dead bird, and mourning for its loss. He was ashamed to look up into her face, as he would have done, had his conscience not accused him--for although he tried to persuade himself that he had not intended actually to kill the bird, yet he well knew that he had harboured the thought day after day, and often as he murmured to himself, "I did not want to kill it," a voice said to him, "Norman, you know that you did want to kill it."

How different was the expression in the countenance of the two children.

Although both were handsome, that of Norman showed his irritable discontented disposition. By the time they reached the house f.a.n.n.y had dried her tears, and hers exhibited the sweet gentle temper which animated her.

As they got near the house they saw Mrs Leslie, who had come out into the garden. f.a.n.n.y ran forward to meet her, and taking her hand said--

"Dear granny it is all over, Norman is very sorry, so when papa comes this evening, I hope that he may not hear about my poor birdie, and that we shall both look smiling and happy."

"I hope so, my dear, and I am very sure that neither your mamma nor Mrs Maclean will tell him of what has occurred."