"Oh, I shall be so much obliged to them," answered f.a.n.n.y, "it is what I have been dreading more than anything else, for I never saw Norman look so grieved for anything he has done."

"That is a great step in the right direction, but he has still much to learn, and many faults to correct, and those faults he will not correct unless his heart is changed," answered Mrs Leslie.

"O dear granny, that is what I have been praying it may be," said f.a.n.n.y, "and you have often told me that G.o.d hears prayers even of weak little girls like me."

"Yes, indeed, He does, and I trust that your prayers and mine, and your mamma's, will be answered in His good time. G.o.d accomplishes His ends as He judges best; and we must not despair, even if we do not see Norman behave as well as we could wish all at once."

The subject of this conversation had been standing at some distance, with his head cast down, unwilling to approach his grandmamma, for he was afraid that he might receive another scolding, and was beginning to harden his heart to resist it.

"Come here, my dear Norman," said Mrs Leslie. "You know how I love you, for you are my only little grandson, and how anxious I am that you should be good and happy, and prosper in this world. This makes me very glad to hear what f.a.n.n.y has been telling me, my dear child. We will all pray, that you will be enabled to keep to your good resolutions, but you must also pray for yourself. Then remember, my dear child, that G.o.d's eye is upon you, that nothing you can think, or say, or do, is unknown to Him, that He is aware of every thought which enters your mind, that He sees even the most trifling thing you do, and hears every word you utter. He wishes you to be happy, and if you try to obey Him, He will enable you to be so. He is more loving than your papa or mamma, or your sister, or I can be."

Norman listened attentively to all his grandmamma said. He might not clearly have understood every word, but he certainly did her meaning; and as she spoke so kindly and gently to him instead of scolding him, as he thought she would, he thought he would try to do as she wished him.

The children were in their garden dresses; Norman's was much torn from his scramble through the woods. f.a.n.n.y had on one which her mamma had brought from France, like that of a peasant girl, which was well suited for wandering about the hills and moors.

After they had walked some time with their grandmamma, she desired them to go in and dress, that they might be ready to receive their papa.

They were hurrying up to their rooms, when, as they pa.s.sed the library door, which was open, f.a.n.n.y caught sight of her little pet's cage still on the floor where she had left it.

"Oh, it must not remain there! what shall we do with it?" she said, as she went in followed by Norman.

The sight of the empty cage was more than she could bear. She took it up, and, looking at it for a moment, burst into tears. For some time she stood with her arm resting on the table, supporting her head in her hand.

"I did not think I should feel so much for poor, dear, little Pecksy,"

she said, trying to restrain her tears.

Norman stood by crying also. He could now sympathise with his sweet sister; but a short time before he would have been inclined to laugh at her tears, and "I did it; I did it," he said to himself. "Oh, how cruel I was; I wish Mr Maclean had come at once, and heard all about it and beat me, I am sure I deserve it; and the little bird, instead of singing merrily in the cage, now lies in the black earth all by itself. Oh, what a cruel, naughty boy I have been!" Such thoughts pa.s.sed through the mind of Norman though he did not speak them aloud. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, and looked up sorrowfully at his sister.

At last f.a.n.n.y recovered herself.

"I will carry the cage to granny," she said; "she will take care of it till we can return it to old Alec, for I could never bear to see another little bird in it."

f.a.n.n.y felt this at the moment, but, probably, she would in time have thought differently.

She took the cage to her grandmamma's room.

Norman stood outside while she went in.

Mrs Leslie promised to do what she wished, and she then went and a.s.sisted Norman to dress. He made no resistance now, but let her wash his face and hands as thoroughly as she thought necessary; and he went and got his things and put them on himself, giving her as little trouble as possible.

f.a.n.n.y was rapid in all her movements, and never dawdled over her toilet, so that she was quickly ready.

Norman on going into the hall met the laird, who had just come back from a long day's fishing excursion, with a basketful of fine trout.

"Well, my laddie, I wish you had gone with me, for you would have seen some good sport," he observed. "I was sorry that you did not keep to your promise."

"I will behave properly another time," answered Norman; "I know I was obstinate and naughty for not doing as you wished."

"Well, laddie, I am glad to hear you say that, and I hope we shall have many a day's fishing together," was the answer.

"Thank you, Mr Maclean," said Norman. "I want to try and do as I am told. If you had taken me with you I should not have killed f.a.n.n.y's poor little bird."

"What do you mean?" asked the laird.

Then Norman told him all that had occurred, adding--

"And I wish you would beat me, Mr Maclean, for I am sure I deserve it."

"Boys only are whipped who are obstinate, and are not sorry for what they have done, and just to teach them right from wrong when they do not know it," answered the laird. "I am glad to see that you are sorry, and that you do know that you did wrong; so, laddie, I cannot oblige you, you see, unless f.a.n.n.y asks me."

"Oh, she will not ask you, for she has forgiven me, and is so kind, and wants to forget all about it," said Norman bursting into tears.

"That is just like her, the sweet little creature," said the laird to himself, adding aloud, "If your sister has forgiven you, and you are sorry for what you have done, I have no reason to be angry or to whip you, so, my laddie, we will not talk of that any more. At the same time, I do not advise you to try and forget the matter, but just always think how kind your sister is, and try to please her, and be as kind to her as possible."

While the laird retired to dress, Norman went into the drawing-room. No one was there. He did not know how to amuse himself. He wished that he could read; but he had not yet made sufficient progress to enable him to find any pleasure in a book. He hunted about for some of f.a.n.n.y's picture-books, but she had taken them upstairs, with the exception of one which he did not care much about. For want of a better, however, he took it to the table, and, clambering into a high-backed chair which stood at it, tried to make out the meaning of the lines at the bottom of the page with the aid of the pictures.

He had been more agitated during the day than usual, and he felt very weary. Gradually his head dropped down on his arms, which were resting on the table, and he fell fast asleep. Still he thought that he was broad awake. To his surprise he saw before him the bird-cage, which he was sure f.a.n.n.y had taken up to granny's room, for he had seen her go in with it; but there it stood on the table directly before him. Presently he heard a chirping sound, just as the linnet used to sing, and looking up, there, growing out of nothing, was the branch of a tree, and several little birds exactly like Pecksy perched upon it, while many more were flying through the sky towards him, and evidently coming down to join the others. Instead of singing merrily, however, like little Pecksy, their voices had a croaking angry sound. By degrees the voices changed from the notes of birds into those of human beings.

"Naughty, naughty boy!" said a voice which seemed to come from behind, "why did you kill Pecksy?"

Norman looked round. There, at the back of his chair he saw perched a bird which nodded its head up and down, and glared at him with its bright little eyes. He was too much frightened to reply; indeed, he had nothing to say for himself.

"You will not answer, then I must answer for you," said the voice, which evidently came from the bird, and though it spoke like a human being, yet it had the sound of a bird's notes, only much louder and shriller than any bird he had ever heard.

"You know that you were angry with little Robby, and jealous of your sweet sister, and that when old Alec gave her our little brother you resolved to kill it on the first opportunity. You thought of doing that cruel deed not only then, but day after day, and you watched for an opportunity. The opportunity came, and when you let the heavy book fall down on the poor little innocent creature, you knew perfectly well that it must kill him, if it did not press him as flat as a pancake. We will not forget what you have done, Master Norman Vallery. When you come into the garden we will not sing to you sweetly, but we will croak at you like so many crows, and call you 'Naughty, naughty boy!' When you run away we will follow you, for we can fly faster than you can run, and we will perch on the branches round you, and croak out, 'Naughty, naughty boy!' When you run on still farther to get away from us, we will fly on either side of you, and will croak out, 'Naughty, naughty boy!'"

"Oh, do not, do not, please do not!" murmured Norman, though he spoke so low that he did not think the bird could hear him. "I will try not to be jealous of f.a.n.n.y, or to be angry with her or anybody else."

"We do not trust you," said the bird on the back of his chair.

"We won't trust you," echoed the others, perched on the branch. "We shall do as we have said; you will find that we can keep our promise, though you are ready enough to break yours. Who killed c.o.c.k robin, who killed c.o.c.k robin, who killed c.o.c.k robin?" sang the birds in chorus.

"That little boy there, with his head on the table!" answered the bird at the back of his chair. "But he did not do it with a bow and arrow, he did it with a big heavy book, and it was not c.o.c.k robin he killed, but our dear little brother Pecksy, the naughty, naughty boy!"

"Oh, I am so sorry!" groaned Norman. "You are right, I own that you are right, but do not scold me any more."

"We shall see how you behave yourself. If you are a good boy we may relent, but if not, when you go into the woods, instead of singing sweetly as we do to your sister, and trying our best to give her pleasure, we will keep our promise, and croak in your ears, 'Naughty, naughty boy!'"

Norman tried to cry out, to ask the birds not to be so angry with him.

Just then he heard another voice saying--

"My dear Norman, you are sleeping very uncomfortably with your head on the table, let me put you on the sofa. Your papa will soon be here, and after a little rest you will look fresh and ready to receive him."

Norman lifted up his head and saw his mamma leaning over him.

The cage was gone, and the branch with all the birds on it had disappeared. He looked round, expecting to see the angry little bird at the back of his chair, but that had gone also, and he found, greatly to his relief, that he had been dreaming.

He told his mamma what he had seen.

"It was all your fancy, Norman," she answered, "you were over-excited and tired. I will sit by you and take care that the birds do not come back again."