Part 15 (1/2)
”Mama, Miss Kerr, look at the lovely bird Frank has brought me,”
cried Bunny, running back to her mother's chair.
”A bird, Frank?” said Mrs. Dashwood, looking into the cage in surprise. ”What a pity it was to catch him and put him in prison, poor little creature; he looks dreadfully frightened.”
”In prison, mama!” cried Bunny indignantly. ”Why, it's a lovely cage; and see, he has water, and hard-boiled egg, and bread sopped in water, and--”
”Yes, dear, I see all those things, but still he is in prison, Bunny,” said Mrs. Dashwood gently, ”and I think it would have been much kinder to have left him to fly about the woods and sing his sweet songs in happy freedom.”
”I am afraid he will never sing again,” said Miss Kerr as Frank placed the cage on the table beside her; ”he looks as if he were going to die, I think; just see how he has gathered himself up into a ball, and his eyes are shut.”
”Oh! I hope he won't die,” cried Frank; ”I am sorry I caught him, Mrs. Dashwood. Shall I let him fly away again?”
”No, you sha'n't, Frank; he is my bird, and you must not let him fly away,” cried Bunny; ”I want to keep him.”
”But, Bunny, your mama thinks he would be glad to get away, so I would rather let him go. Do say I may send him off.”
”No, no, Frank, you sha'n't; I want him; he's mine now,” answered the little girl in an angry voice; ”I will have him and keep him;”
and making a dive across the table she seized the cage and ran away with it down the garden.
”Bunny! Bunny! come back this minute,” cried her mother and Miss Kerr together.
”I'll soon bring her back!” exclaimed Frank, and off he went after the runaway.
When Bunny heard footsteps behind her she turned her head to see who it was that was following her, and as she ran along without looking where she was going, her foot came against a stone, and down she went, cage and all, upon the gravelled path.
”Oh, you cruel big boy!” she cried, bursting into tears. ”Why did you come after me and make me fall in that way? I'll never speak to you again--never;” and, gathering herself up from the ground, she began to rub her knees, and brush the dust and sand off her frock.
”Now, don't be silly, Bunny,” said Frank, as he picked up the cage.
”You are not a bit hurt--but, look here! I believe you have killed the poor bird.”
”Oh! no, Frank, dear! oh! I didn't do that!” sobbed the little girl, coming forward and looking wistfully into the cage.
”Yes, I am afraid he is dead. He was very much frightened before,”
said Frank sadly, ”and the shock of the fall, and all the water and things falling on him have killed him. I am so sorry. I wish, now, I had left him to sing happily in the garden, Mrs. Dashwood,” he said, going back to where the ladies sat together, carrying the poor dead thrush in his hand. ”You were quite right; it was a great pity to take the poor bird and put him in a cage. I will never catch a young bird again--never.”
”Poor little creature! I thought it would not live long,” said Miss Kerr; ”but, Bunny, you were very naughty to run away with it in that way; I am sure the fall helped to kill the thrush.”
”I didn't mean to kill it!” cried Bunny in a choking voice. ”Oh!
mama, I am so sorry!” and she flung herself on the ground beside her mother's chair, and buried her face in her lap.
”Never mind, Bunny, dear,” whispered Mervyn softly, as he stole up and put his arm round her neck. ”Don't cry, dear; I am sure it would have died very soon anyway. Wouldn't it, Miss Kerr?”
”Yes, dear, I think it would,” said the governess gently. ”But what are you going to do with the thrush, Frank?”
”Oh! I suppose I must bury it,” answered Frank; ”I wish I had a pretty box to put it in.”
”I have one, I have one,” cried Bunny, jumping quickly to her feet, and running off towards the house, mopping up her tears as she went along. ”I've got a dear little one that will just do, Frank.”