"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 Fanny, 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, Fanny," 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." Fanny 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 Fanny out of the room. "What is it you want to do, Fanny?" 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 Fanny 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."