Frank and Fanny | Page 5

in the nest again, and covered it over with the wool.
"Let us go and tell grandmother all about it," said he, "for, perhaps, she may know how to mend the broken wing."
Just then they heard Sally calling them to supper, and they went down stairs, and sat down at the table. But the bowls of new milk remained untouched. They felt too sad to eat, for Fanny could hear the low plaint of the bird, in the room above; and still louder sounded in Frank's memory, the sad, "chick-a-dee-dee-dee," of the mourning mother.
"Why do you not eat your supper, children?" inquired their grandmother, kindly.
Fanny burst into tears, but Frank answered:
"I have done something very naughty, grandmother, and we both feel too bad to eat. We did not want to tell you to-night, for we knew it would make you unhappy to hear that we had done wrong, but we cannot keep it to ourselves any longer."
"Frank would not have done it, if it had not been for me, grandmother," sobbed Fanny; "but I wanted a little bird so badly, and I forgot that it was wicked, and I teazed Frank to go back to the woods, and get me one, and now I am so sorry."
Their grandmamma looked very grave, but she answered,
"You have done right, my children, to tell me about it. I should have been still more grieved if you had concealed it from me. As it is, I feel sorry for you, for I know how much you are both suffering for your thoughtlessness: now, try to eat your supper, and we will take good care of the bird to-night, and to-morrow morning, before church, I will send Sally with Frank, to carry it back again, for it will be an errand of mercy to the poor little bird."
The children were very much relieved by their grandmother's sympathy. After supper, they brought the bird down, and showed her the broken wing, and Frank told how he feared he had broken it. Sally tried to feed it, but it would not eat; and the children felt very sad again, when they found that the wing could not be mended. After carefully laying the bird, with the wool, in the basket, Sally prepared the children for bed. Then their grandmother read to them a chapter from the Bible, after which they sung, in sweet tones, this little evening hymn, which I will copy here, as it is such a good one, for all little children to repeat:
EVENING HYMN.
"LORD, I have passed another day, And come to thank thee for thy care; Forgive my faults in work and play, And listen to my evening prayer.
Thy favor gives me daily bread, And friends, who all my wants supply; And safely now I rest my head, Preserved and guarded by thine eye.
Look down in pity, and forgive Whatever I've said or done amiss; And help me, every day I live, To serve thee better than in this.
Now, while I speak, be pleased to take A helpless child beneath thy care, And condescend, for Jesus' sake, To listen to my evening prayer."
Then Frank and Fanny kissed each other 'good night,' and Frank went to his little room, which was close to the one where Sally slept with Fanny.
CHAPTER III.
THE BIRD'S FUNERAL
The next morning was a beautiful one. The air seemed full of fragrance, and the sunshine rippled down through the leaves of the old elm tree, falling in little golden waves of light upon the vines, that were twined about the doorway and casements of the cottage.
Fanny was awakened from her sleep, by the joyous notes of a robin, that had perched close beside her window, and was shaking the dew in showers from the leaves, with every motion of his restless little wings. She sprang out upon the floor, fancying for a moment, that it was her chick-a-dee, that was singing so merrily; and she hastened to the basket, and carefully lifted the wool. She was grievously disappointed, for the poor bird lay stretched upon its back, and when she lifted it, she found it was quite cold and dead! Her little bosom swelled, and large tears gushed from her eyes. It was more than she could bear, and when Sally came into the room, a few moments afterwards, she found her sobbing bitterly.
[Illustration: THE ROBIN.]
Frank was in the room below, studying over his Sabbath school lesson, but when he heard his sister crying, he dropped his book, and hastened up to her. Sally had told him, that the bird was dead; and he, too, felt very badly about it, but he could not bear to hear his sister grieve so.
"Don't cry so, dear sister," he said, "I will earn some money, and buy you a Canary, like Mary Day's."
"No, no, Frank;