Part 5 (2/2)
”Bear the consequences of your own inordinate appet.i.te, Frances, and learn to subject it to the wholesome rules of temperance.”
”O the nasty plum-cake! I wish you had not given me any, mamma.”
”You _once_ thought the plum-cake _nice_, and you would not be contented with the small portion I knew to be sufficient and safe for you.”
”O my head! I think it is very cruel, mamma, that you do not pity me.”
”I do pity you, Frances, and will take care of you now that I see you require help, as I perceive that you will not have any relief without medicine.”
Frances began again to cry, ”O, I am so sick! I cannot take medicine. I am sure I cannot.”
”Come to your room, Frances; I shall give you something proper, and you had better lie down after you have taken it; you will, perhaps, drop into a sleep, and be well when you awake again.” Her mamma took her hand and led her up stairs, and Frances knew very well it was in vain to make any objection, as her mamma always made a point of obedience. The medicine was administered, although for some time Frances refused to look at it. When she laid down, her mamma placed the pillow high under her head, and, drawing the curtain to shade the light, left the room that she might be perfectly quiet. And when she returned to the drawing-room, she inquired of the other children what they had been doing, and received a full account of the feast, and the bird's nest, and all the little circ.u.mstances of each.
It was time to resume their studies, and, except that Frances was not in her usual place, all things proceeded as before. When the lessons were finished, they entreated their mamma to go with them, and see the bird's nest.”
”It is _so_ pretty, mamma!” said Anne; ”and they know when the mother comes, and they take what she puts into their mouths.”
”We will first inquire after Frances,” she answered; ”if she is well enough, she can accompany us.”
”I will run up, if you will be putting on your bonnet and shawl, mamma.”
”Very well, I hope you will find her recovered, we will wait your return.”
Anne soon returned,--”She is gone! I do not see her anywhere!”
”Gone! In perhaps we shall find her at play in the garden.”
In this expectation they all went out, and as they drew near the spot where the nest was, they saw Frances looking very eagerly into the nest, and seeming to be in some agitation, then she threw something out of her hand, and ran away as if wanting not to be seen.
”She is about some mischief,” William said, and ran forward to the nest. But what was his grief to see one of the little birds dead on the ground, two others in the nest with pieces of bread sticking in their mouths, gasping, unable to swallow or reject it, and the fourth with its crop gorged, and slowly moving its little unfledged head from side to side, struggling in death.
Full of sympathy with the little sufferer, and indignant with Frances, he exclaimed, ”Provoking girl! she has stuffed the little creatures as she would like to stuff herself; and I believe she has killed them all.”
The lively interest the other children had in the nest, impelled them to hasten to the spot, and their lamentations, and even tears, soon flowed.
”William, William, cannot you do anything for them? do try.”
”Well, stand still and do not shake my arm--so saying, he began the attempt, and drew the bread carefully out of the distended mouths of the two.
”Now the other! the other, William!”
”That I cannot help,” he answered: ”see! she has forced it down, and we cannot get it back again; it is dying now.”
Anne picked up the dead one from off the ground, and stroking it with her forefinger, ”Poor little thing!” she said, ”was she so cruel to you!”
It was not long before they heard a rustling in the tree near the place, and then a chirp of fright and distress. ”Ah!” said their mamma, ”there is the mother! poor things, we will go a little distance to let her come to the nest; perhaps she will be able to save the two.”
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