Norman who was hungry, at last made his appearance. He went to his seat without speaking or even looking at her. Mr Maclean who knew nothing of what had passed, talked to him in his usual kind way, and promised to take him out the next morning that he might commence his lessons in fly-fishing. Norman being thus treated, was perfectly satisfied with himself, and considered that Fanny alone was to blame for the ill-feeling in which he allowed himself to indulge towards her. She made several attempts to get him to speak, but to no purpose. How sad it was that Norman should have been able to place his head on his pillow and not experience any feeling of compunction at doing so without being reconciled to his gentle sister. Next morning he was up betimes, and went off soon after breakfast with Mr Maclean to the loch. Fanny amused herself for some time with her little bird. It now knew her so well that when she opened the door of its cage, it would fly out as she called it, and come and perch on her finger, and when she put some crumbs on the table, it would hop forward, turning its head about, and pick them up one after the other, watching lest any stranger should approach. If any one entered the room it immediately came close up to Fanny, or perched on her hand, and seemed to feel that it was perfectly safe while under her protection. It would not, however, venture out if any one else was in the room. Fanny kept its cage hung up on a peg near the window of her bedroom. She brought it down that morning to show to Mrs Leslie. "I must give it a name, dear granny," she said; "can you help me? Do you recollect the pretty story you used to read to me when I was a very little girl, about the three robins--Dickey, and Flapsey, and Pecksy. I have been thinking of calling it by one of those names, but I could not make up my mind." "Which name do you like the best, my dear?" asked Mrs Leslie. "I think Pecksy. Pecksy was a good, obedient, little bird, and I am sure my dear little bird is as good as a bird can be." "Then I think I would call it Pecksy, dear," answered Mrs Leslie; and Fanny decided on so naming her little favourite. "Now you shall see, granny, how Pecksy will come out when I call it, if you will just hold up your shawl as you sit in your arm-chair, so that it may not see you; yet I am sure it would not be afraid of you if it knew how kind you are, and I shall soon be able to teach it to love you;" so Fanny placed the cage on a little table at the farther end of the room, and, opening the door, went to some distance and called to Pecksy, and out came Pecksy and perched on her fingers. She then, talking to it and gently stroking its back, brought it quietly up to her granny. Greatly to her delight, Pecksy did not appear at all afraid.