I enjoyed it very much.  There were graves of beasts and birds who had died without friends in the hedges and the soft parts of the fields in almost all our walks.  I never showed them to Nurse, but I often wondered that she did not notice them.  I always touched my hat when I passed them, and sometimes it was very difficult to do so without her seeing me, but it made me quite uncomfortable if I passed a grave without.  When I could not find any bodies I amused myself with making wreaths to hang over particularly nice poor beasts, such as a bullfinch or a kitten.

I had been a Brother of Pity for several months, when a very curious thing happened.

One summer evening I went by myself after tea into a steep little field at the back of our house, with an old stone-quarry at the top, on the ledges of which, where the earth had settled, I used to play at making gardens.  And there, lying on a bit of very stony ground, half on the stones and half on the grass, was a dead robin-redbreast.  I love robins very much, and it was not because I wanted one to die, but because I thought that if one did die, I should so like to bury him, that I had wished to find a dead robin ever since I became a Brother of Pity.  It was rather late, but it wanted nearly an hour to my usual bedtime, so I thought I would go home at once for my dress and spade and bier, and for some roses.  For I had resolved to bury this (my first robin-redbreast) in a grave lined with rose-leaves, and to give him a wreath of forget-me-nots.

Just as I was going I heard a loud buzz above my head, and something hit me in the face.  It was a beetle, whirring about in the air, and as I turned to leave poor Robin the beetle sat down on him, on the middle of his red breast, and by still hearing the buzzing, I found that another beetle was whirling and whirring just above my head in the air.  I like beetles (especially the flying watchmen), and these ones were black too; so I said, for fun, “You’ve got on your black things, and if you’ll take care of the body till I get my spade you shall be Brothers of Pity.”

I ran home, and I need not have gone indoors at all, for I keep my cloak and my spade and the bier in the summer-house, but the bits of wood were in the nursery cupboard, so, after I had got some good roses, and was quite ready, I ran up-stairs, and there, to my great vexation, Nurse met me, and said I was to go to bed.

I thought it was very hard, because it had been a very hot day, and I had had to go a walk in the heat of the sun along the old coaching-road with Nurse, and it seemed so provoking, now it was cool and the moon was rising, that I should have to go to bed, especially as Nurse was sending me there earlier than usual because she wanted to go out herself, and I knew it.

I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t.  Every time I opened my eyes the moonlight was more and more like daylight through the white blind.  At last I almost thought I must have really been to sleep without knowing it, and that it must be morning.  So I got out of bed, and went to the window and peeped; but it was still moonlight—­only moonlight as bright as day—­and I saw Nurse and two of the maids just going through the upper gate into the park.