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 house, they did not see her, and so they carried the bird up
stairs, into Fanny's room, and made a nest out of soft wool, and
placed the little bird in it; but it fluttered out, and Frank saw that
one of its wings was broken. Then he knew that he must have broken it
when he fell, and the tears came to his eyes, as he laid it 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.