He went into the drawing-room to get one of the battledores, which were kept in an Indian cabinet. No sooner had he opened the door than his eye fell on Miss Lucy, seated in a large arm-chair, where Fanny, who had brought her down to try on a new frock which her mamma had made, had incautiously left her. "You are there, are you!" said Norman, slowly approaching, "you look as if you were laughing at me. I should like to know what business Fanny has with you, when I have not my football to play with." He stopped for a minute or more, looking at the doll with his fists clenched; and instead of trying to drive away the evil thought which had entered his mind, took a pleasure in encouraging it. Still, he did not touch the doll. "I will carry you out, and hide you in a bush, where Fanny cannot find you," he muttered. Then he thought that he must take out a battledore and shuttlecock and play with it, or what he proposed doing would be suspected. He went to the cabinet, and opening it, there he saw on an upper shelf the very knife with which he had made the hole in his football. A dreadful idea seized him, he took the knife and advanced with it towards poor Miss Lucy. Dragging her from the chair, he threw her on the ground and began to cut away at her wax neck with his knife. As the chief part of the edge was blunted, he did not at first make much impression; but, drawing it rapidly backwards till the sharp part towards the point reached the doll's neck, in one instant off rolled the head. Others who do wicked deeds often injure themselves, so Norman, whose finger was under the point cut a deep gash in it. As he felt the pain, and saw the blood spurting forth, he jumped up, crying lustily for some one to come and help him, utterly regardless of the mischief he had done. He gazed at his finger, and thought that all the blood in his body would run out. "Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?" he screamed out. "Is nobody coming to help me?" Then he looked at the doll. "It was all your fault, you nasty thing," he exclaimed kicking the doll's body away from its head, "I wish that I had let you alone. What business had Fanny to leave you in the chair, looking so impudently at me, and if you had your head on, you would be laughing at me still?" then he again looked at his finger, which smarted very much, and as he saw the blood dropping down on the carpet, he bawled louder than ever. Fanny, during a pause in her reading, heard him. "What can be the matter with Norman?" she exclaimed, "may I run down and see?" "Yes, my dear, and call me if he has really hurt himself," said Mrs Norton, "but from the way in which he is crying, I do not think there is anything very serious." Fanny ran downstairs. She entered the drawing-room. For a moment, she stood aghast, as the first object which met her sight, was her dear, pretty Miss Lucy's head, lying some way apart from her body, with a huge knife near it, and Norman standing not far off.