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.”

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: