Frank and Fanny | Page 4

better behaved children.
We will now go back to the pleasant green meadows, where we left
them on their way home. Fanny was looking very serious, when Frank
said:
"Are you tired, sister? If you are, I will carry you pick-a-back back."
"Oh, no, I am not one single bit tired."
"Then what makes you look so sober?"
"I was wishing that I could have one of those little birds to love, and to
take care of always. I do think that it would make me very happy to
have a dear little bird, that would know me, and turn his bright, black

eyes up to me, like Mary Day's little canary. When she calls, "Billy,
Billy," he turns his yellow head, first one side, then the other; and when
he sees her, he sings so sweetly! Oh, couldn't you get just one of those
little birdies for me, Frank?"
Frank looked very thoughtful for a moment, and Fanny spoke again.
"Just one; you know there are six little ones."
"I know there are six, Fanny; but you heard how the poor birds cried
and scolded, when I only peeped into the nest; and if I took one away,
what would they do?"
Fanny thought an instant, and then said:
"I did not have six mammas, I only had one; and God took my mamma
away from me, and I am sure the birds could spare me one little one,
when they have six, better than I could spare my mamma, when I only
had one."
Fanny's reasoning seemed very correct to Frank; he was not old enough
to explain the difference to her; so, promising to bring her one of the
birds, he left her, and ran back, over the meadows, while Fanny kept on
her way home, because she knew her grandmother always expected
them earlier on Saturday afternoons. But though she made haste, it was
quite sundown when she reached home. The snow white cloth was
spread upon the table for tea, and Sally was cutting the fresh rye bread,
as Fanny entered the room. Her grandmother sat by the little table,
between the windows, and looked up to welcome Fanny, but missing
Frank, she asked where he was.
"He has gone back to the woods, grandmother, to get"----then Fanny
hesitated, for she remembered how often she had been told, that it was
wicked to rob the bird's nest, and she had not thought it would be
stealing the bird, until now. She felt ashamed to tell her grandmother,
and so she hurried through the room, and went to the closet to hang up
her sun bonnet.

Pretty soon she heard the garden gate swing to, and she ran out into the
back yard, to meet Frank, who was hurrying along with a sober face,
very different from his usual joyous expression. He held his cap
together with both hands, and Fanny's heart beat hard, when she heard
the feeble plaint of the poor imprisoned bird.
"Oh, Frank, I am so sorry," were the first words that she said, "I did not
think that it would be stealing, until I got home, and then I was
ashamed to tell grandmother what you had gone back for. Oh, I am so
sorry."
"And so am I," said Frank; "it almost made me cry to hear the poor
birds fret so. When I took it away, one of them flow close around my
head, and when I ran on to get away from it, I hit my foot against a
stone, and stumbled down, and I am afraid I hurt the bird. All the way
across the meadow, I could hear the old birds crying so sorrowfully,
"chick-a-dee-dee-dee," and it made my heart ache so, that I should have
carried it back, if it had not been for you."
"Oh, dear, I wish you had. It is too late to carry it back to-night, and
what will grandmother say to us."
"Supposing we don't tell her to-night, and to-morrow morning we will
get up early, and carry it back, and then we can tell her all about it."
"No, we can't do that, Frank, for to-morrow is Sunday, and
grandmother does not let us go into the woods on Sunday; oh, what
shall we do?"
Frank now uncovered the bird, and Fanny took it gently in her hand,
smoothed the glossy black head, and the brown wings, but it gave her
no pleasure, for the poor little thing wailed pitifully, and looked so
frightened out of its dark hazel eyes.
All the time that they had been talking, their grandmother had been
standing at the open window, close by them, but the vines hid her from
sight, and they did not know that she was there. When they went into
the