Norman Vallery; or, How to Overcome Evil with Good

W.H.G. Kingston

"Norman Vallery"

Chapter One.

Just come from India.

“Are they really coming to-morrow, granny?” exclaimed Fanny Vallery, a fair, blue-eyed, sweet-looking girl, as she gazed eagerly at the face of Mrs Leslie, who was seated in an arm-chair, near the drawing-room window. “Oh, how I long to see papa, and mamma, and dear little Norman! I have thought, and thought so much about them; and India is so far off it seemed as if they would never reach England.”

“Your mamma writes me word from Paris that they hope to cross the Channel to-night, and be here early in the afternoon,” answered Mrs Leslie, looking at the open letter which she held in her hand. “I too long to see your dear mamma; and had it not been for you, my own darling, I should have missed her even more than I have done; but you have ever been a good, obedient, loving child, and my greatest comfort during her absence.”

Mrs Leslie, as she spoke, drew her grandchild towards her, and kissed her brow.

Fanny said nothing, but, pressing the hand which held hers, turned her eyes towards her grandmamma’s face, while the consciousness that the praise was not wrongly bestowed, caused a bright gleam of pleasure to pass over her countenance.

Mrs Leslie, who had brought up Fanny from her infancy, lived in a pretty villa a few miles from London, surrounded by shrubberies, with a lawn and beautifully-kept flower-garden in front. On one side was a poultry-yard, over which Fanny presided as the reigning sovereign; and even Trusty, the spaniel, who considered himself if not the ruler at all events the guardian of the rest of the premises, when he ventured into her domain always followed humbly at her heels, never presuming to interfere with her feathered subjects. More than once he had been known to turn tail and fly as if for his life when Phoebe, the bantam hen, with extended neck and outspread wings had run after him, as he had by chance approached nearer to her brood of fledglings than she had approved of.

Fanny with her fowls, Trusty, and Kitty, the tortoiseshell cat; and her doll, which had a house of its own fitted with furniture; and, more than all, with the consciousness of her granny’s affection, considered herself one of the happiest little girls in existence. Everybody in the house, indeed, loved her; and she was kind, and gentle, and loving to every one in return.

Her mamma—Mrs Leslie’s only daughter—had married Captain Vallery, an officer in the Indian army, while he was at home on leave, and had accompanied him to the East. She returned three or four years afterwards, in consequence of ill health, bringing with her little Fanny, who, when she went back to her husband, was left under charge of her mother, Mrs Leslie.

Great as was Mrs Vallery’s grief at parting from her child, she well knew, from her own experience, with what wise and loving care she would be brought up.

Captain Vallery was of a French Protestant family, but having been partly educated in England, and having English relations, he had entered the British army. He was considered an honourable and brave officer, and was a very kind husband, but Mrs Vallery discovered that he had certain peculiar notions which were not likely to make him bring up his children as she would desire. One of his notions was, that boys especially, in order to develop their character, as he said, should always be allowed to have their own way.

“But, my dear husband,” she pleaded, “suppose that way should prove to be a bad way, what then will be the consequence?”

“Oh, but our little Norman is a perfect cherub, surely he can have nothing bad about him, and I must insist that no one curbs his fine and noble temper, lest his young spirit should be broken and irretrievably ruined,” answered Captain Vallery. “I say, let the boy have his own way, and you will see what a fine fellow he will become.”

Mrs Vallery sighed—she knew that it would be useless to contend with her husband, though she feared, should his plan be persevered in, it would entail many a severe trial on her boy in future years.

Of this Mrs Leslie had some suspicions, though Fanny, who had pictured her little brother as all she could wish him to be, looked forward with unmitigated pleasure to having him as her companion.

With eager interest she assisted Susan, the housemaid, in preparing the rooms for the expected guests; for she was a notable little woman, and she had been encouraged by her grandmamma to busy herself in household matters. She with much taste arranged the bouquets in the vases on her mamma’s dressing-table, and then she went into the little room next her own, in which Norman was to sleep, and placed some flowers in that also, as well as three or four of her prettiest picture-books, which she had carefully preserved, thinking that they might amuse him. Gently, too, she smoothed down his pillow, and, after everything was in order, went back delighted to make her report to granny.

How her heart beat when a carriage drove up to the door, with a gentleman and lady in it, whom she knew must be her papa and mamma, while on the coach box was seated a young boy. “What a fine, noble, little fellow he is,” she thought to herself, as the boy scrambled down without waiting for the assistance of any one.

The next instant she scarcely knew what was happening—every one seemed so full of confused delight. She felt that she was in her mother’s arms, who, still holding her, threw herself into those of granny. Then her papa, a fine, handsome gentleman, took her up and kissed her again and again; and next, she saw the little boy who had come in with a whip in his hand; she sprang towards him exclaiming, “You are Norman!” and, following the impulse of heart, covered his face with kisses.

“Yes, that’s my name,” answered the boy, “and you are the sister Fanny I was told I should see; and is that old woman there granny? Will she want to kiss me as you have done? I hope she won’t, for I do not choose to be treated as a baby.”

Happily Mrs Leslie did not hear these remarks; they grieved Fanny sorely.

“Oh but dear granny will love you as she does me, and you must come to her as I am sure she wants to see you,” she whispered gently. “Then you shall go out with me, and I will show you my poultry and Trusty and all sorts of things, which I am sure you will like.”

“Come along then,” said Norman, “I shall like to see the things you talk of.”

“Not surely till you have spoken to granny, but afterwards I will gladly take you,” said Fanny, and she led him up to Mrs Leslie.

Though his grandmamma kissed him several times, he behaved better than might have been expected, restraining for a wonder his impatience, somewhat awed perhaps by the dignified manner of the old lady.

“And now, Fanny, I am ready to see what you have got to show me,” he exclaimed, as Mrs Leslie taking her daughter’s arm led her into the drawing-room.

Captain Vallery cast a proud glance at his two beautiful children as hand in hand they ran upstairs.

“Here is my doll’s house,” said Fanny, as she led Norman into her neat bed-chamber; “see, it has a drawing-room, with sofas and chairs and looking-glasses, and a dining-room, with a long table and plates and dishes and knives and forks on it; and this is the kitchen, with its stove and pots and pans; and here is the bedroom, where little Nancy sleeps. She is a dear good child, and never cries, but as I have had her for a long time, she is not as pretty as she used to be. I tell granny that she was a poor neglected little orphan, and that she came begging at the door one day, and as she had no one to look after her, I took her in, and that is the reason she has so many knocks and bruises.”

Fanny, as she spoke, drew out a small doll, dressed in a cotton frock, from the doll’s house, and held it up to Norman.

“It does look just like a wretched beggar child,” he observed; “I wonder you can care for such a thing. If I were you I should throw it out of the window, and tell papa he must get another much prettier, dressed like a fine lady, who would be fit to walk out with you, and you need not be ashamed of, as I should think you must be of Nancy, as you call her.”

“Oh, but I love Nancy very much,” said Fanny; “she and I have known each other very many years, and I would not throw her away on any account. If I ever get a finer doll, I can let Nancy attend on her, I am sure she will be very glad to do that, for she is not a bit proud, and wishes, I am sure, to be a good girl and please everybody.”

“You may think more of her than I do,” remarked Norman, “and now, as I am not a baby, and do not care about dolls, won’t you show me some of the other things you talk of?”

“Oh yes!” said Fanny, “I will take you to my poultry-yard, but I must carry Nancy with me as she has not been out all day, and she will like to see me feed my hens. They are all very fond of me, and I hope they will learn to know you, Norman, too, and come when you call them, and eat out of your hand, as they do out of mine, especially Thisbe, who is the tamest of all, and the fondest of me.”

“I do not know that I care about cocks and hens and those sort of creatures, but I will go with you,” answered Norman, tucking his whip under his arm and accompanying Fanny.

“O Miss Fanny,” said Susan, whom they met on the way with a china vase in her hand, “your grandmamma says that your papa is fond of flowers, and that we ought to have put some on the mantelpiece of his dressing-room. Will you come and help me to pick them, and will you arrange them, as you can do so beautifully?”

Fanny gladly undertook to do as Susan asked her, and told Norman that after she had picked the flowers she would take him into the poultry-yard. Putting down her doll with her back against a clump of box, she, with a smile at her own conceit, begged him while she was engaged to try and amuse Nancy by telling her something about India or his voyage home. “Stuff!” he replied in a grumpy tone, and turned away, while his sister began to pick the flowers. One side of the yard, composed of trellis work, it should be said, was close to the garden, so that the fowls running about within could easily be seen through the bars. A door, also of trellis work, opened from the garden into the yard.

Norman though he did not care much about seeing the poultry, felt vexed and angry that Susan should venture to draw off his sister’s attention from himself, and stood with his finger in his mouth watching them as they were engaged in picking the flowers.

The hens which had espied their young mistress, had gathered near the side of the yard, and Thisbe, Fanny’s favourite hen, was making strenuous efforts to get out. Norman had strolled up to the door, and finding that he could lift the latch opened it, and out ran Mistress Thisbe. Fanny, not observing what had happened just then, called to Norman, and asked him to hold the vase, that she might arrange the flowers within it. He had taken it in his hands, when at that moment Trusty, who had been snuffing about the rooms, not perfectly satisfied as yet that the newly arrived strangers had a right to enter them, espying Fanny in the garden came bounding towards her. He gave vent as he saw Norman to a short bark, as much as to ask, “Who are you?” but Norman, not accustomed to dogs in India, and already in no very amiable mood, became alarmed, and dashing the vase at Trusty’s head, seized his whip, with which he began lashing about in all directions at everybody and everything he saw near him.

Susan seeing his alarm rushed forward, intending to assist him, but what between anger and fear his temper was now fairly aroused, and instead of thanking her, he turned round and bestowed on her a lash with his whip, which made her run off to call Mrs Vallery, thinking that his mamma would be better able to manage him than she could.

His gentle sister came in for the next assault of his blind rage, and she fled with her doll, which she had snatched up in her arms, feeling that the wisest thing just then to do was to get out of his way.

Trusty, unaccustomed to the blows which Norman now liberally bestowed, scampered off in one direction, while Thisbe the hen took to flight in another, and the young gentleman remained as he believed himself the victor of the field, shouting out:—

“I will have no one interfere with me, either maid-servants or dogs or fowls: I will soon show who is master here!” and again he shouted and bawled and waved his whip.

Poor Fanny who had never before seen a person in a passion, stood by trembling at a little distance while Master Norman walked up and down shouting out that he would whip any one who came in his way, and that the ugly dog would soon learn what to expect if he dared to bark at him again. Fanny entreated him to be quiet. “I am sure Trusty had no wish to frighten you, Norman,” she said, “if you will keep your whip quiet and call to him he will come up wagging his tail and soon be friends with you.”

Norman, however, instead of doing as his sister advised, flourished his whip more vehemently and shouted louder than ever, walking up and down and trampling on the flowers which had been scattered on the ground.

In the meantime Susan had reached the drawing-room where Mrs Vallery was reclining on the sofa to rest after the fatigue of her journey.

“Please marm,” said Susan as she entered, “I am sorry to say that the young gentleman is in such a tantrum that I do not know what to do with him, and I am afraid he will make himself ill. He won’t listen to his sister or to me, but if you will just come and speak to him, perhaps he will be quiet.”

“If you will excuse me, mamma, I will go to the poor child,” said Mrs Vallery rising.

“Could you not let Susan bring him here? He of course will come if she tells him that you have sent for him,” observed Mrs Leslie.

“I am afraid that he might refuse,” answered Mrs Vallery, “he is not always as obedient as I could desire.”

Mrs Vallery hurried out to Norman.

“My dear child, what is the matter?” she exclaimed, as she saw him still flourishing his whip and looking very angry and red in the face.

“The hen flew at me, and the dog barked, and I threw the jar at their heads, and Fanny has been scolding ever since, and I will not stand it,” shouted Norman.

“Come in with me, my dear child,” said Mrs Vallery soothingly. “I am sure Fanny did not intend to scold you.”

“Indeed, I did not, mamma,” cried Fanny, running up and kissing Norman. “Trusty barked only in play, and I am sure would not hurt him for the world. You must make friends with Trusty, Norman, and he will then do anything you tell him, and will never bark at you again.”

At length Norman, becoming calmer, consented to accompany his mamma into the house. Fanny ran upstairs and brought down one of the picture-books with the pictures, in which she tried to amuse him by telling him stories about them, for she found that he was unable to read the descriptions which were placed below them, or on the opposite pages.

At last she saw that he had fallen asleep in the arm-chair on which he was seated, so she put a cushion under his head that he might rest more comfortably, and finding that he was not likely to awake, she stole out that she might gather some more flowers instead of those which had been scattered on the ground when Norman broke the vase, and which he had trampled on while he was angrily stamping about on the gravel walk.

She watched for an opportunity while her papa was out of his room, and placed the fresh bouquet on his mantelpiece.

The day passed away without any other adventure, and as Norman having slept but little on board the steamer was very tired, Mrs Vallery carried him up to bed at an early hour.

“Now, my dear child, kneel down and say your prayers,” she said when she had undressed him.

“No, I won’t!” answered Norman, “I am too tired, I want to go to sleep.”

His mamma knew that it would be useless to argue with him, so with a sigh she placed him in his bed, and kneeling down, prayed that God would change him, for her love did not prevent her from seeing that his present heart was hard and bad, and that none of the qualities she desired him to possess could spring out of it.

She sat by his bedside till he was asleep, and then went back to Mrs Leslie.

Sweet Fanny felt sadly hurt and disappointed at the behaviour of her young brother, whom she had naturally expected to find as loving, and gentle, and ready to be pleased as she was. She consoled herself, however, with the thought that he was tired and out of sorts after his long journey, and hoped that the next day he would become more amiable and more like what she had fancied him to be.

Sleep soon visited her eyelids and as she was a brisk active little girl, she was awake betimes.

She had said her prayers and read a chapter in the Bible, which she did every morning to herself, and was waiting for Susan to assist her in putting on her frock when her mamma came into her room.

“My dear Fanny, I shall be so much obliged to you if you will assist Norman to dress; I am afraid that I shall be late for breakfast if I attempt to do so, as he is apt to dawdle over the business when I go to him,” said Mrs Vallery, giving her a kiss and admiring her fresh and blooming countenance. “He has been awake for some time, and as he does not know how to amuse himself he may perhaps be doing some mischief,” she continued. “He misses his ayah, his native nurse, who declined accompanying us farther than Alexandria, so you must be prepared to find him a little troublesome, but I hope he will improve.”

“Oh, I shall be delighted, mamma, to help Norman, and I daresay I shall have nothing to complain of,” answered Fanny, and without waiting to put on her frock she accompanied her mamma to the door of Norman’s room.

“You will be a good boy, and let Fanny help you dress, my dear,” said Mrs Vallery, putting in her head.

Fanny entered as her mamma withdrew, and having kissed Norman, arranged his clothes in readiness to put them on. She then poured out some water for him to wash his face.

“Shall I help you?” she asked, getting a towel ready.

“No, I can do it myself,” he answered, snatching the towel from her hand. “I don’t like to have my nose rubbed up the wrong way, and my eyes filled with soapsuds. I can wash my face as much as it wants. It isn’t dirty, I should think,” and dipping a corner of the towel in the water he began to dab himself all over with it cautiously as if he was afraid of rubbing off his skin.

“There, that will do,” he said, drying himself much in the same fashion. “I am ready to put on my clothes.”

“But you have not washed your neck or shoulders at all,” said Fanny, “and if you will let me, and bend down your head over the basin, I will pour the water upon it and give you a pleasant shower-bath this warm morning.”

“I have washed enough, and do not intend to wash any more,” answered Norman in a determined tone. “Where is my vest?”

Fanny, seeing that it would be useless to contend further on that point, assisted him to dress, and buttoned or tied the clothes which required buttoning or tying. When, however, she brought him his stockings, he took it into his head that he would not put them on.

“I can do very well without them,” he exclaimed, throwing himself into an arm-chair.

“There, you stand by my side, and wait till I want you to help me, just as my ayah used to do—the wicked old thing would not come on with us because I one day spit at her and called her a name she did not like. I can talk Hindostanee as well as English, I suppose you can’t,” and Master Norman uttered some words which sounded in Fanny’s ears very much like gibberish.

She waited patiently for some minutes, hoping that her brother would let her finish his toilet. At last, knowing that it was nearly time for her to go down and make the tea, she brought his stockings and attempted to put one of them on.

“I told you to wait till I was ready,” he exclaimed, and as she determined if possible on this occasion not to be defeated, stooped down to draw on one of his stockings. He seized her by her hair, and began belabouring her with the other which he had snatched out of her hand.

Fanny, supposing him to be in play, persevered in her efforts, but he continued to pull and pull at her hair, and to beat her about the shoulders so vehemently that he began to hurt her very much. She at first only laughed and cried out—

“Pray be quiet, Norman, I shall have the stocking on in a moment.”

But as her brother pulled more savagely, she could with difficulty help shrieking from the pain he inflicted.

“My dear Norman, do let go my hair,” she exclaimed, “you are really hurting me very much.”

“I know I am, and I intend to do so. I want to show you the way I treated my ayah when she dared to do anything I did not like, and I do not choose to let you meddle with my feet. When I want to put on my stockings I will put them on myself,” and Norman pulled and kicked and struggled so much that Fanny thought it would be wiser to give up attempting to draw on the stocking in the hopes that he would then release her hair from the grasp of his fingers. He was, however, in one of his evil moods, and, believing that he had gained a victory, instead of acting the part of a generous conqueror, he cruelly continued to tug at her hair till poor Fanny could no longer help shrieking out, “Let me go! let me go, Norman!”

She might, to be sure, have grasped his arms, and holding them have released herself by force, but the idea of doing so did not enter her gentle heart, for in the attempt she must have inflicted pain, and she was ready to suffer anything rather than do that.

Her shrieks brought Susan, who had come up to fasten her frock, into the room, and she, not at all approving of the way her favourite, Miss Fanny, was being treated, quickly grasped the young gentleman’s wrists, and made him open his fingers and release his sister’s hair.

“You naughty boy, how dare you behave in this way?” she exclaimed indignantly, “I will take you to your mamma this moment if you do not behave better, and do as you are told.”

“You had better not, or I will pull your hair, and make you wish you had let me alone,” exclaimed Norman, throwing himself back in the chair, and holding on to its arms to prevent Susan from lifting him up.

“Pray allow him to remain here, Susan, and I daresay he will let me finish dressing him. He did not hurt me so very much, but I was frightened, not expecting him to behave in that way, and so I could not help crying out for a moment,” said Fanny. “You will be good now, Norman, won’t you? and finish dressing, and be ready to go down to breakfast.”

The young gentleman made no answer, but sat as if rooted in the chair, looking defiantly at Susan and his sister.

“I see what we must do, young gentleman,” said Susan, who was a sensible woman, possessing herself of the stockings which had fallen on the ground, “we must put an end to this nonsense.”

Suddenly jerking up Master Norman, she seated herself in the chair, and pressing down his arms so that he could not reach her, she quickly drew on first one stocking and then the other.

“Now, Miss Fanny, please hand me the shoes,” and though Norman tried to kick she held his little legs and put them on.

“Now your hair must be put to rights, young gentleman. It is in a pretty mess with your struggles. Hand me the brush please, Miss Fanny!” and while she held down his arms, though he moved his head from side to side, she managed dexterously to arrange his rich curly locks.

“Has he washed his hands?” asked Susan.

Fanny shook her head.

“No, I have not, and I don’t intend to do so,” growled Norman.

“We shall soon see that,” cried Susan, dragging him to the basin; “there, take care you don’t upset it,” and forcing his hands into the water, she covered them well with soap.

Norman was so astonished at the whole proceeding, that he forgot to struggle, and only looked very red and angry. Susan made him rub his hands together till all the soap was washed off, and then dried them briskly with the towel.

“There, we have finished the business for you, young gentleman,” she said, as she released the boy, of whom she had kept a firm hold all the time.

“Now, we will put on your jacket and handkerchief, and you will be ready to go downstairs, but before you go just let me advise you not again to beat your sister in the way you did just now, or I will not let you off so easily.”

“Oh, pray do not be angry with him, Susan,” said Fanny, “he will I hope let me help him to dress to-morrow, and behave like a good boy.”

“No, I won’t,” growled Norman, “as soon as I see my papa I will tell him how that horrid woman has treated me, and he will soon send her about her business.”

Susan wisely did not reply to the last observation, but quietly made the young gentleman put on his jacket, and then fastened his collar, and tied his handkerchief round his neck.

“There, you will do now,” she said, surveying him with an expression in which pity was mingled with admiration, for he was indeed a handsome child, and she thought how grievous it would be that he should be spoilt by being allowed to have his own way. She then, lifting him up, suddenly placed him again in the chair and said, “Sit quiet, young gentleman, and try and get cool and nice to go down, and see your grandmamma. We are not accustomed to have angry faces in this house, and what is more we won’t have them.”

“Now come, Miss Fanny, I will help you to finish dressing.”

Saying this she signed to Fanny to go out of the room, and, closing the door, locked the young gentleman in.

As soon as she had put on Fanny’s frock and shoes, and arranged her hair, she went back to release Norman, whom she found still seated in the chair, in sullen dignity, with the angry frown yet on his countenance.

Susan said nothing, but taking his hand led him down after Fanny, to the door of the breakfast-room. He went in willingly enough, for he was very hungry and wanted his breakfast, but the angry frown on his brow had not vanished.

“Good morning, my dear,” said his grandmamma, who was already there, and had just kissed Fanny, who sprang forward to meet her.

Norman did not answer, but stood near the door, pouting his lips, while he kept his fists doubled by his side.

“What is the matter with him, my dear Fanny?” asked Mrs Leslie.

His sister did not like to tell their grandmamma of his behaviour, so instead of replying, she ran to him and tried to lead him forward.

“I want my breakfast,” muttered Norman.

“You will have it directly your mamma comes down, and prayers are over,” said Mrs Leslie quietly. “Come my dear, and give me a kiss, as your sister does every morning, you know that you are my grandchild as well as she is, and that I wish to love you as I do her.”

“I don’t care about that, I want my breakfast,” exclaimed Norman, breaking away from Fanny, and going towards the table, to help himself to some rolls he saw on it.

Fanny greatly ashamed at his behaviour, again endeavoured to lead him up to his grandmamma, but he, tearing his hands from hers, kicked out at her, and ran back to the table.

Just then Mrs Vallery entered the room and affectionately embracing her mother, drew her attention for a moment away from her grandchild. Norman took the opportunity of seizing one of the rolls, which he began stuffing into his mouth. His mother, though she saw him, and felt somewhat ashamed of his behaviour made no remark, for she knew what the consequences would be should she interfere.

“I am so much obliged to you, Fanny,” she said, “for dressing your brother. I hope he behaved well.”

Fanny would not tell an untruth, but she did not wish to complain of Norman, so she hung down her head, as if she herself had done something wrong.

Mrs Leslie suspected that Norman had not behaved well, but she remained silent on the subject as Mrs Vallery did not repeat the question.

Fanny, having made the tea, rang the bell and the servants, as usual, came in to prayers. Norman not being interfered with, kept munching away at the hot roll, and did not relinquish it when his mamma took him up, and placed him on a chair by her side. All the time Mrs Leslie was reading the sound of his biting the crisp crust was heard, while he sat casting a look of defiance at Susan, whose eye he saw was resting on him.

When they were seated at the table, Mrs Vallery apologised to his grandmamma for his conduct, observing that he was very hungry, as he was accustomed to have his breakfast as soon as he was up.

“We must let Susan give it him, then, another morning,” observed Mrs Leslie; “she will, I am sure, be very glad to attend to him in her room.”

“I won’t eat anything that woman gives me,” growled Norman, looking up from the roll and pat of fresh butter which his mamma had given him; “she is a nasty old thing; and if she tries to put on my stockings and wash my hands again, I will beat her as I did my ayah, and will soon show her who is master.”

“I thought you dressed your brother this morning, Fanny,” observed Mrs Vallery.

“So I did, mamma, but Susan came in to help me, though I hope to-morrow Norman will let me dress him entirely,” answered Fanny, determined if possible not to speak of her brother’s misconduct, and hoping by loving-kindness to overcome his evil temper.

Mrs Leslie wondered how a child of her gentle daughter’s could behave as Norman was doing.

“You will arrange about his breakfast as you think best, Mary,” she said; “but I hope that if Susan is kind enough to attend to him, he will be grateful to her. She is a faithful and excellent servant, and, of course, will expect to be obeyed and treated with respect by a little boy.”

A peculiar shake of the head which Norman gave, showed that he had no intention of following his grandmamma’s wishes.

Captain Vallery coming in, no further remark on the subject was made.

Having saluted his mother-in-law and daughter, and given Norman an affectionate pat on the head, he sat down to breakfast. Fanny having given him a cup of tea, and helped him to an egg and toast, and offered him other things on the table, he began to talk in his usual animated way, so that Norman, who wanted to make a complaint against Susan in his presence, was unable to get in a word. Fanny, who, guessing his intentions, was on the watch, whenever she saw that he was about to speak offered him a little more bread, or honey, or milk, anxiously endeavouring to prevent him saying anything which she considered would bring disgrace upon himself, by making his misconduct known. Happily for her affectionate design, Captain Vallery had to go up to London, and as soon as breakfast was over, kissing her and Norman, without listening to the mutterings of the latter, he hurried off to catch the train.

Chapter Two.

In Pursuit of Knowledge.

A lady came every morning to teach Fanny, but Mrs Leslie had begged that she might have a holiday in consequence of her papa’s and mamma’s arrival, and that she might have more time to play with her little brother.

Fanny had been anxiously considering how she could best amuse him.

“What should you like to do, Norman?” she asked, putting her arm affectionately round his neck. “You see I am a girl, and perhaps I may like many things that you will not care about. Let me consider. We can arrange my doll’s house, or we can play at paying visits; and I have two battledores and a shuttlecock, which I will teach you how to use; and then you must come out and help me to feed my chickens. I have also a garden of my own, and I am sure granny will let you have a piece of ground near it, or else you shall have part of mine, and you can learn how to keep it neat and pretty. And whenever you like you can have a game at romps with Trusty. You must make friends with him to-day; and if you call him by his name and give him a piece of meat, which I will get from the cook for you, and pat his head, he will soon learn to know you. But you must not frighten him with your whip, or he will run away from you. He used to be beaten when he was naughty, but then he was a little puppy, and did not know better; but now he never does anything wrong, and if he was ever so hungry, and was told to guard the things in the larder, or on the dining-room table, from the cat, he would not touch the nicest dish himself, and would take care that neither the cat nor any other dog came near them.”

“I do not care about any of the things you speak of,” answered Norman. “I want my whip, and I think Susan has hid it for fear I should beat her, and I intend to do so if she dares to treat me like a baby. I will beat Trusty too, if he barks at me—you’ll see if I don’t—and he will soon find out who is master. I am a brave boy, papa says so, and I want to be a man as soon as I can.”

“But brave and good boys do not beat either women or dogs, and I hope you wish to be good as well as brave,” said Fanny gently.

“So I am, when I have my own way,” exclaimed Norman, “and my own way I intend to have that I can tell you. Now, Fanny, go and find my whip, or make Susan give it to you if she has got it, and if she will not, tell her that my papa will make her when he comes home.”

Fanny, wishing to please her brother, and not believing that he would really make a bad use of his whip, hunted about for it, but in vain. She then went and asked Susan if she had got it.

Susan replied that she knew nothing about the whip, and had last seen it by the side of the young gentleman when he had fallen asleep in the arm-chair.

On hearing this, Norman marched into the drawing-room, expecting to find his whip in the place where he was supposed to have left it, but it was not there. He searched about in all directions, as Fanny had done in vain. He saw his grandmamma following him with her eyes, but he could not bring himself to ask her if she knew where his whip was, and she did not speak to him. At last, losing patience, he ran out of the room, and joined Fanny in the garden.

“Somebody has my whip, and I will find out who it is,” he muttered angrily, “I am not going to have my things taken away. But I say, Fanny, cannot you come out with me and buy another, I must have one just like the last, and I will try it on Trusty’s back if he comes barking at me again.”

“I cannot possibly take you out without granny’s or mamma’s leave, and you must not think of buying another whip to beat Trusty, I had just been thinking of asking cook to give you some small pieces of meat, and I will go at once and get them, then you must call Trusty, and when he comes to you, you must give him a piece at a time and pat his head and he will wag his tail, and you will be friends with him in a few minutes.”

“I would rather not have him come near me unless I have my whip to beat him if he tries to bite me,” said Norman.

“Oh, he will not bite you,” answered Fanny, and she ran to the kitchen where she got some bits of meat from the cook and brought them to her brother.

She soon found Trusty who was lying down on the rug in the dining-room, and followed her out into the garden.

“Call Trusty, Trusty, and show him a piece of meat,” she cried to her brother.

Norman with some hesitation in his tone called to the dog as Fanny bade him, and Trusty ran up wagging his tail. Instead of holding the meat and letting Trusty take it, which he would have done gently, Norman nervously threw the meat towards him, Trusty caught it, and putting up his nose and wagging his tail drew nearer; Norman instead of giving a piece at a time as Fanny had told him to do, fancying that the dog was going to snatch it from him, threw the whole handful on the ground and retreated several paces. Trusty began quickly to gobble up the meat.

“Oh, you should have given him bit by bit,” said Fanny.

As soon as Trusty had finished he ran forward expecting to get some more, when Norman fancying that the dog was going to bite him, took to his heels and ran off screaming, while Trusty bounded playfully after him thinking that he was running, as Fanny often did, to amuse him.

“Stop the horrid dog! he is going to kill me, stop him, stop him!” screamed Norman as he ran towards the house.

In vain Fanny called to Trusty and ran to catch him, he kept leaping up, however, hoping to get some more meat from the little boy who had, as he fancied, treated him so generously.

The cries of Norman brought out his mamma.

“The naughty dog is going to bite me, and Fanny is encouraging him. Save me, mamma, save me!” he exclaimed, as he threw himself into Mrs Vallery’s arms.

“Fanny, what is the matter,” she asked, “it is very naughty of you to let the dog frighten your little brother.”

Sweet gentle Fanny feeling how innocent she was of any such intention burst into tears.

“Indeed, dear mamma, I only tried to get Norman to play with Trusty and to make friends with him, I did not for a moment think he would be frightened,” and she ran forward and tried to kiss her brother in order to soothe him, but he now believed himself safe from the dog, who sagaciously perceiving that something was wrong had stopped jumping, and lay quietly on the ground, and as she approached he received her with a box on the ears.

“Take that for setting the dog at me,” he exclaimed maliciously.

Fanny stood hanging down her head as if she had been guilty, but really feeling ashamed of her brother’s behaviour.

“That was very naughty of you, Norman,” said Mrs Vallery, holding back the young tyrant, who was endeavouring again to strike his sister.

She then carried him into the drawing-room; Fanny followed her without a thought of vindicating herself, but wished to try and calm her young brother and to assure him that Trusty was only in play.

His mamma sat down with him on her knee. Mrs Leslie inquired whether he had hurt himself.

“He has been frightened by the dog, and says that Fanny set the animal at him,” answered Mrs Vallery.

“That is impossible,” observed Mrs Leslie, “Fanny could not have done anything of the sort.”

“She is a cruel thing, and wants the dog to bite me,” growled out Norman in a whining tone, still half crying.

“I will answer for it that Fanny is much more likely to have tried to prevent the dog from frightening you, for I am sure that he would not bite you. Come here, Fanny, I know that you will speak the truth.”

Fanny felt grateful to her grandmamma for her remark, and explained exactly what had occurred.

Mrs Vallery was convinced that she was innocent, and Norman was at last persuaded to return with her into the garden. Fanny talked to him gently, and tried to make him forget his fright.

“Come to the tool-house where I keep my spade and hoe and rake. There is a little spade which I used to use, it will just suit you, and we will go and arrange the garden you are to have,” she said as they went along.

“That is an old thing you have done with,” growled Norman scornfully, as she gave him the little spade, “I must have a new one of my own.”

“I hope papa will give you one,” she answered quietly, “but in the meantime will you not use this?”

Norman took it, eyeing it disdainfully, but Fanny, making no remark, led the way to the plot of ground the gardener had laid out for them. One part of it was full of summer flowers, the other half she had left uncultivated that Norman might have the pleasure of digging it up and putting in seeds and plants.

“You have taken good care to make your own garden look pretty,” he observed, as he eyed her portion of the plot. “What am I to do with that bare place?”

Fanny told him what her object had been, and offered to help him. She had got several pots with nice plants, which there was still time to put in, and a number of seeds of autumn flowers. These she promised to give to him as soon as the ground was fit for their reception. She began digging away in her usual energetic manner, and he for a time tried to imitate her, but he soon grew tired.

“There, you can dig away by yourself,” he said, “just as the natives do in India in the plantations, and I will look on like an owner, and watch that you do your work properly,” and he leant back with his arms folded, as he thought, in a very dignified way.

Fanny dug on for some time. At last she stopped and said, laughing—

“Now it is your turn to work, and mine to watch you.”

“I do not want to dig,” he answered, “I am going to be an officer like papa, and have others to obey me.”

Just then the gardener came by, and seeing Fanny digging away and making herself very hot, promised her that in the evening he would put the ground to rights. As she found that Norman was not disposed to garden, she invited him to have a game of battledore and shuttlecock on the lawn.

They had played for half-an-hour, and he seemed to be more amused than he had been with anything else. While they were in the garden Mrs Vallery had been unpacking her trunks, and wishing to show Fanny a dress she had brought from Paris for her, called her in. Norman said he would remain out and play by himself.

Some time was occupied in admiring the beautiful frock and in trying on some boots and other things. How grateful did she feel to her mamma as she kissed her again and again, and thanked her for bringing her so many pretty things. Though she would have liked to have stopped and admired them again and again, she did not forget Norman.

“I am afraid he will be growing dull by himself, mamma,” she said, “I will go out and try to amuse him. I see that he has gone away from the lawn and has left the battledore on the grass.”

Fanny, putting on her bonnet, went out to look for Norman. To her surprise, after searching about for some time, she saw him digging, as she thought, on his plot of ground.

“Oh, I am so glad that he is trying to amuse himself in that way,” she said to herself, “he will now learn to like gardening, I hope.”

On reaching the spot, however, she stood aghast, for Norman, instead of working in his own part of the ground, was digging away in hers, and had already uprooted nearly all her beautiful flowers.

“I am going to put them into my ground,” he said, when he caught sight of her, “I do not see why you should have them all to yourself.”

“But, my dear Norman, they will not bear transplanting,” she answered, almost bursting into tears, as she surveyed the havoc he had committed, for many of her flowers were not only dug up, but broken and trampled on, and it was evident that he intended rather to destroy than remove them.

“Oh, do stop, Norman!” she cried out, “the gardener promised, you know, to put some flowers into your garden, and he knows how to do it properly.”

“He may do as he likes,” said Norman, throwing down his spade; “I have taught you a lesson, Miss Selfish, your garden is not much better than mine now.”

Fanny could no longer restrain her tears.

“O Norman!” she exclaimed, “it was not from selfishness I did not plant your garden, but I thought you would like to do it yourself, and that you would find pleasure in seeing flowers spring up which you had put in. Indeed, indeed, Norman, you accuse me wrongfully.”

“Well, at all events, we are even now,” growled out the boy, walking up and down, and it is to be hoped feeling somewhat ashamed of himself, as he surveyed the mischief he had done.

“Granny and mamma will be so angry with him if they see it,” thought Fanny, “I must try to put it to rights as far as I can,” and while Norman stood by with an angry frown on his brow, she began to replace some of the least injured plants. While she was thus employed, Susan came to tell her and her brother that it was time to get ready for dinner, for Fanny in her agitation had not even heard the gong sound.

“Why, Miss Fanny, what has happened to your garden?” exclaimed Susan.

Fanny never told an untruth, but she was very anxious to shield her brother, for she knew how angry Susan would be with him if she discovered what he had done.

“Pray do not ask me, Susan,” she answered, “John promised to put Norman’s garden to rights this evening, and I daresay he will do mine at the same time, until after that we had better not look at it.”

Susan guessed pretty correctly what had happened, but as Fanny had begged her not to ask questions, she refrained for her sake from doing so.

Fanny was going up to Norman to lead him towards the house, but he hung back, so Susan took him by the arm.

“Come along, young gentleman,” she said in the stern voice she knew how to assume, “you will require to wash your hands well after your gardening,” and she pointed back at the ground he had upturned. “Are you not ashamed of yourself?” she whispered. Fanny had run on a little way lest Susan should again ask questions. “If you are not ashamed you ought to be,” continued Susan, “your sweet sister is an angel, and I should like you just to ask yourself what you are.”

Norman though he threatened Susan behind her back stood in considerable awe of her in her presence, he therefore did not venture to reply, but as he hung somewhat behind her as she led him on, he made faces at her, which he knew she could not see.

Having washed his hands and brushed his hair she conducted him to the dining-room.

“Many a worse boy deserves his dinner more than you do,” she whispered, stopping before she took him in. “Eat yours with what appetite you can, but let me advise you to try and be sorry for the ungrateful way you have treated your sister, who has been so kind to you since you came into the house.”

Norman snatched his hand away from her, and with a glum countenance entered the dining-room. Walking up to the table he took his seat eyeing Fanny, who he suspected, judging by himself, had been telling their grandmamma and mamma what he had done. She, however, had not said a word about the matter. They were merely looking at him, wondering what made his countenance so sullen.

“I hope you have had a happy morning, Norman,” said his grandmamma, as she offered him some minced beef.

He made no reply.

“My dear, pray answer your grandmamma,” said Mrs Vallery, for she had been directed never to order Norman to do anything.

Still he did not speak.

“My dear child do let me entreat you to make use of your tongue, your grandmamma spoke to you and asked if you had had a happy morning.”

“I never am happy, and am not likely to be with no one to try and amuse me,” growled out Norman.

“I am sure that your sister wishes to amuse you,” observed Mrs Leslie, “and I shall be very glad to read to you, or to tell you stories such as I used to tell Fanny, when she was of your age, if you will come and sit by me and listen.”

“She is only a girl, and you are an old woman,” muttered Norman shovelling the mince meat into his mouth. “I want boys to play with me.”

“You will find plenty of boys to play with when you go to school, where I hope your papa will soon send you,” observed Mrs Leslie, “but you will find that they do not treat you in the gentle way your sister does, and perhaps you will often wish that you had her again as a playmate.”

“We must have another game of battledore and shuttlecock on the lawn after dinner,” said Fanny, “you seem to like that, and on one side it will be pleasant and shady.”

Norman finding that Fanny had not complained of the way he had treated her garden, became more amiable and agreed to her proposal.

Before going out, however, she persuaded him to sit quiet and listen to a story, which she told him out of one of her picture-books.

The children were playing on the lawn, when Captain Vallery appeared followed by a man carrying a large parcel. Norman went on throwing up the shuttlecock, but Fanny ran to her papa to welcome him with a kiss.

“I have got something for you both, will you like to come in and see the parcel opened,” he said taking it from the man and going into the house.

Hearing his papa’s remark Norman followed him and Fanny, eager to learn what the parcel contained. Captain Vallery had placed it on a chair. While he was speaking to his wife and Mrs Leslie, Norman ran up to it, and although he had not even spoken to his papa, began pulling away at the string.

“Ah, he is a zealous little fellow, he wishes to save me trouble,” observed Captain Vallery, and Fanny hoped that such was the motive which prompted Norman, though she wished he had shown greater pleasure at seeing their papa come back.

Mrs Vallery at her husband’s request now opened the parcel, which Norman notwithstanding his efforts had been unable to do. Among other articles which he had brought for her and Mrs Leslie, she drew out a long parcel carefully done up in silver paper.

“This I think must be for Fanny,” she said.

Fanny, her countenance beaming with pleasure, carefully unwrapped the parcel, and exhibited a beautiful doll with a wax head and shoulders and wax hands looking exactly, she thought, as if they were real flesh.

“Oh, thank you, papa, thank you,” she exclaimed running up and kissing him. “Look granny! look mamma! see what a lovely little girl she is, with such fair soft hair and such blue bright eyes, she must surely be able to see out of them.”

Mrs Leslie and her mamma admired the doll, which was indeed a very handsome one, and very superior to poor Nancy.

“There, Norman, you will not be ashamed to walk out with her, I am sure,” she said. “But I hope Nancy will not think that she will make me forget her, for I should not like to hurt her feelings. What name shall we give her? for she would not like to be called ‘The New Doll,’ shall it be Emma or Julia or Lucy? I think Lucy is a very pretty name—shall she be called Lucy, granny? Norman do you like that name? it sounds so soft and so nice for a young lady doll as she is.”

Norman had been eyeing the doll with no pleasant feelings; he did not like that his sister should receive a present when he thought that there was none for him.

“You may call her Lucy, or whatever you fancy,” he answered gruffly, “boys like me do not care for dolls.”

“He is a fine, manly, little fellow,” observed Captain Vallery. “I have not forgotten you, though, Norman. Perhaps mamma will find something more to your taste in that large, round parcel,” and Mrs Vallery drew out the package at which her husband pointed.

“There, Norman, that is the sort of thing a boy likes,” said the Captain, handing it to him.

Norman snatched at it eagerly, and, with the assistance of his papa, tore off the paper, and found within an enormous football covered with leather, which he could just manage to grasp with his arms.

“There, you will be able to play with that famously on the lawn,” said Captain Vallery, “and I must come out and join you. I used to be very fond of football when I was at school, and we must have some fine games together.”

Norman, instead of thanking his papa, hugged the football and made towards the door, eager to go out on the lawn and kick it about. At the same time, he looked with a jealous eye at Fanny’s beautiful doll, which she was fondly caressing. Though he had declared that he did not care for dolls, he could not help thinking it prettier than his own great, brown ball, and, as he had never been taught to restrain any of the evil feelings which rose in his heart, he at once began to be jealous of his sister, because the present she had received was of more value than his. Still, he thought he should like to have a game with his ball, which, his papa told him, he was to kick from one end of the lawn to the other. Getting his hat, therefore, he told Fanny she must leave her doll, and come and play with him.

Fanny, ever anxious to please her brother, though longing to take Miss Lucy upstairs and introduce her to Nancy and to her doll’s house, at once consented to go out with him into the garden. Placing her doll, therefore, carefully in her own little chair, and telling her she must sit very patiently and be a good girl till she came back, she put on her hat, which hung up in the hall, and ran out into the garden.

Norman had already put the ball on the grass, and had begun to kick at it. He kicked and kicked away utterly regardless of his sister, and when she attempted to join him, he told her to wait till he was tired.

“But papa said you were to kick it from one side, and I was to kick it from the other,” she observed, “so we ought both to play at the same time.”

Norman at last allowed her to kick the ball, and was angry because she sent it away from him, and he had to run after it before he could get another kick. Still, Fanny did not remonstrate, and tried to send the ball so that Norman could easily reach it.

At last Captain Vallery came out.

“I am glad to see you play so nicely together,” he said; “pray go on.”

“Oh do, papa, take my place,” exclaimed Fanny, “it will be much better fun for Norman, and you will show him how to play.”

Captain Vallery accordingly kicked the ball, and sent it flying high up into the air. Norman shouted with delight.

“That’s much better than Fanny can do,” he exclaimed, as his papa sent the ball up several times.

“What makes it fly up like that?”

“My feet, in the first place; but as it is filled with wind, it is very light, and rises easily,” answered the Captain. “You, in time, will be able to make it fly as high.”

“I should like to see the wind in it,” said Norman; and his papa laughed at his remark, which he thought very witty.

They continued playing for some time; Captain Vallery, proud of having a son to instruct, showing Norman how to kick the ball, and explaining the way in which real football is played by big boys.

“I wish I was a big boy, and I soon shall be, I hope, for then I shall have some one else besides a stupid girl to play with,” exclaimed Norman. “I would rather have her than you, though, because you kick the ball about more than I like, and I want to kick it all by myself.”

“You are an independent little fellow,” observed his father approvingly, instead of rebuking him for his rude remark.

Captain Vallery stood by, allowing Norman to kick the ball backwards and forwards, which he did for some time, declaring on each occasion that if it reached either one side of the shrubbery or the other he had won the game—not a very difficult matter, considering that he had no one to oppose him.

At length, the gong sounding, Captain Vallery went in to dress for dinner, and Norman was left to play by himself, for, Fanny finding she was not wanted, had entered the house, and, after exhibiting her doll to Susan, had gone to her room to introduce Miss Lucy to Nancy and to her future abode.

Norman soon grew weary of being by himself, and with his big ball in his arms, wandered into the house. Making his way into the drawing-room, he there found among a number of Indian curiosities which had just been unpacked, and which his papa intended to hang up against the wall, a long knife. Though Norman was very forward in some things, and could talk better than many boys older than he was, yet he was very ignorant in others, but of that, like many more ignorant people, he was not aware. “I should like to see the wind papa told me was inside this big ball,” he said to himself; “perhaps there is something else besides wind, it feels pretty soft—I daresay I could easily cut it open with this knife and see.” He took the knife and examined it, “I must not do it here though, or they may be coming downstairs and stop me,” so tucking the knife under one arm, and holding the big ball in the other, he went along the passage and out at the garden door. He at first proposed

going to the further end of the garden, where he need have no fear of being interrupted, then he recollected his performance of the morning, and thought that the gardener might be there, and would scold him for digging up Fanny’s plants, so instead of going there, he made his way along the side of the house, till he reached another door, which led to the larder.

“The cook won’t be coming in here at this hour, as she is serving up the dinner, so I shall have the place all to myself!” he observed, thinking how clever he was.

He accordingly went in and closed the door.

“Now I shall soon find out what is inside my ball,” he said chuckling and placing it on the ground. Putting one foot on it, to hold it steady, he began cutting away with the huge knife. The part of the weapon he used was not very sharp, and as the leather yielded, he at first made no impression; at last he made a dig at the ball with the point of the knife, which quickly penetrated it, producing a wide gash. Out rushed the wind faster and faster, as he pressed down his foot, till the coating of leather and the thin bladder inside had become perfectly flat. He took it up wondering at the result, and shook it and told it to get fat again, but all to no purpose. He felt very much inclined to cry, when somehow or other he discovered, that he had done a very foolish thing, but he was not accustomed to blame himself.

“Papa ought to have brought me a different sort of ball, which would not grow thin just because I happen to stick a knife into it,” he muttered to himself.

Again he threw down what had once been a ball, and stamped on it, and abused it for not doing as he told it. At last he began to think that the knife, which he supposed was his grandmamma’s, might be missed and that she would scold him for carrying it away. Taking up the leather therefore, and finding that no one was near, he returned. On his way seeing a thick bush, he threw the case into it—for he was somewhat ashamed of letting his father know the folly of which he had been guilty.

As no one had yet come down, he replaced the knife among the articles from which he had taken it, and ran up to his room. When he came back he found Fanny in the drawing-room reading, she told him that their granny and papa and mamma had gone in to dinner.

“Cannot you do something to amuse me?” he asked.

“Willingly,” she answered, putting aside her own book, and she read some stories to him out of one of the picture-books.

Susan came shortly to call the children to their tea, and they then went down to dessert in the dining-room.

“Well, my boy, are you inclined to have another game at football before you go to bed?” asked Captain Vallery.

“No,” answered Norman, not liking the question, “I do not want to play any more to-day.”

“I thought you seemed so pleased with your football, that you would never get tired of it,” observed Mrs Vallery.

Norman made no answer.

The ladies rose from the table, and Captain Vallery soon joined them in the drawing-room, they then strolled out on to the lawn to enjoy the cool air of that lovely summer evening.

“Go and get your football, Norman,” said Captain Vallery, “though you do not wish to play, I shall enjoy kicking it about to remind me of my schoolboy days.”

Norman did not move.

“Go and get it, my dear, as your papa tells you,” said Mrs Leslie, vexed at her grandson’s disobedience.

“I will go and get it—where did you leave it, Norman,” said Fanny.

“I do not know,” he answered.

“I daresay I shall find it,” said Fanny, supposing that her brother had left it in his room, or else in the hall.

She soon came back saying that she had hunted everywhere, but could not find it.

“I suppose the somebody who stole my whip, has taken that,” growled Norman.

“My dear, no one in this house would I am sure steal anything,” said Mrs Leslie, “but a friend, who considered that you would make a bad use of your whip, has undoubtedly put it out of your way. Do not let me bear you make that remark again.”

“There are thieves everywhere,” muttered Norman.

At that moment, Trusty was seen coming along one of the walks, dragging something brown, and tossing it playfully about. On he came till he reached the lawn.

“Why, Norman, I believe the dog has got your football, though he has managed to let the wind out of it,” exclaimed Captain Vallery.

“Oh, the thief, beat him, papa!” cried Norman.

“Oh, pray not!” exclaimed Fanny, “I am sure Trusty did not intend to hurt Norman’s ball,” cried Fanny, running forward and catching Trusty. “Give it up, sir, give it up, you do not know the mischief you have done,” she added.

“Oh, but he must have stolen it, and see he has made a great hole in it with his teeth!” exclaimed Norman.

Captain Vallery took up the football and examined it.

“The dog did not do this,” he said, pointing to the slit in the leather. “This was done by a sharp knife; we must not wrongfully accuse the dog, he must have found it in this condition; somebody else cut the hole.”

Norman grew very red; his papa looked at him.

“I suspect somebody wanted to see the wind which I told him was within it,” he observed.

Norman grew redder still.

“I thought so,” said Captain Vallery. “Did you cut the hole in your ball, Norman?” he asked sternly.

“I wanted to see the wind in it,” murmured Norman.

Now Captain Vallery, though he held some wrong ideas about education, was a highly honourable man, and as every honourable man must do, he hated a falsehood, or any approach to a falsehood. He considered that what some people call white lies are black notwithstanding, and he knew in his heart that God hates them.

“Why did you say, then, that the dog had torn your ball, when you knew that you yourself cut it?” he asked. “I have never before punished you, but I intend to do so. I will not have a son of mine become a liar.”

“My dear,” he said, turning to his wife, “take Norman in and put him to bed. I cannot look at him any more to-night.”

Mrs Vallery took Norman by the hand and led him into the house.

Mrs Leslie said nothing, but she was glad to find that her son-in-law considered it necessary to try and put a stop to one of the bad ways of his son. Perhaps he might in time find out that there were other bad ways of his which it would be as well to check.

Captain Vallery walked up and down on the lawn by himself for some time, considering how he should treat his son, and he began to reflect whether after all his system of allowing a boy to have his own way was likely to prove the best.

Chapter Three.

Can you forgive it?

Next morning, when Norman came down to breakfast, his papa, instead of playfully addressing him, turned away his head and took no notice of his presence. Norman ate his breakfast in silence. Fanny looked very sad, she felt that her brother deserved punishment, and that it might teach him the necessity of speaking the truth. Still she could not bear the thoughts of her young brother being beaten, and from what her papa had said she believed he intended to do so. Her grandmamma had quoted the proverb of Solomon, “He that spareth the rod hateth his son, but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.”

“You are right, Mrs Leslie,” her papa had remarked, “I acknowledge the wisdom of the great king, and must follow his advice.”

After breakfast Fanny’s governess arrived, and Captain Vallery took his son up into his room. What happened there Norman did not divulge, but he looked very crestfallen during the rest of the morning. When he met Fanny afterwards he told her that he did not intend to tell any more lies.

“I hope you will not do so,” said Fanny, “remember that God hates them even more than papa or anybody else can do, and He knows when you tell an untruth, although no human being may find it out.”

After dinner Norman appeared to have recovered his spirits, and Fanny took him out to play battledore and shuttlecock.

They were beginning to get tired, when Mrs Leslie and their mamma came out.

“Come and walk with us, my dears,” said Mrs Leslie, “I want to show your mamma the pretty garden you have cultivated so nicely, Fanny.”

Fanny would thankfully have prevented them from seeing her garden, for she knew that the way Norman had treated it would be discovered. Still she could not think how to avoid going, and she could only hope that the gardener had put it to rights, as he had promised to do.

Mrs Leslie, wishing to gain her grandson’s confidence, called to him, and taking his hand, led him on talking to him kindly; Fanny and her mamma followed at a little distance.

Mrs Vallery interested Fanny by giving her accounts of India, but she was so anxious about her garden and the vexation her granny would feel at seeing it destroyed, that she could not listen as attentively as she otherwise would have done. She saw that Norman was walking on very unwillingly, and from time to time making an effort to escape, but his grandmamma had no intention of letting him go.

At length Mrs Leslie and Norman reached Fanny’s garden.

“Why, my dear, what changes you have made!” she exclaimed, “and I see you have dug up nearly half of it.”

Fanny ran forward. The gardener had begun to set it to rights, but had evidently been prevented from finishing the work. The two spades were stuck in the ground where Fanny and Norman had left them.

Fanny said nothing, she hoped that her brother would manfully confess what he had done, that she might then be better able to plead for him. Instead of doing so he snatched his hand away from that of his grandmamma and ran off along the walk. Fanny had then most reluctantly to confess that her brother had dug up her garden.

“Do not be angry with him, granny,” she said, “he is very very young, and he thought I had ill-treated him by not making his garden as nice as mine was. He did not understand that I fancied he would like to arrange it himself, but John has promised to put it in order, and I hope to-morrow that mine will be as nice as ever, and that Norman’s will be like it, so pray say no more to him about it.”

“I will do as you wish, Fanny,” answered Mrs Leslie, “but I cannot allow your brother, young as he is, to behave in the same way again.”

Mrs Vallery was greatly grieved at discovering what Norman had done, at the same time she was much pleased to hear the way Fanny pleaded for her young brother, and she could not resist stooping down and kissing her again and again while the tears came into her eyes.

“O mother! you have indeed made her all I can wish,” she said, turning to Mrs Leslie.

“Not I, my dear Mary, I did but what God tells us to do in His Word; I corrected her faults as I discovered them, and have ever sought guidance from Him. But His Holy Spirit has done the work which no human person could accomplish.”

Norman, conscience-stricken, had hidden himself in the shrubbery. The rest of the party supposing that he had run into the house, continued their walk, and after taking a few turns in the shady avenue they went in-doors.

Mrs Norton, Fanny’s governess, having just then arrived she set to work on her lessons, while her mamma and Mrs Leslie went to the drawing-room.

“I am afraid, mamma, that you must think Norman a very naughty boy,” said Mrs Vallery, “I have spoken to him very often about his conduct, and as yet I see no improvement.”

“I have hopes that he will at all events learn that he must not tell stories,” observed Mrs Leslie, “and if your husband takes the same means that he did this morning to teach him what is wrong he will by degrees learn what he must not do. It is far more difficult to teach a child what it ought to do, though I trust the good example set by our dear Fanny will have its due effect, while we must continue to pray without ceasing that the heart of your child may be changed.”

“I fear he has a very bad heart now,” sighed Mrs Vallery, “I am always in dread that he should do something wrong.”

“All children have bad seeds in their hearts, and it is our duty by constant and careful weeding to root them out, and to impress also on the child from its earliest days the necessity of endeavouring to do so likewise. The child is not excused as it gains strength and knowledge if it does not perform its own part in the work,” observed Mrs Leslie. “We justly believe our Fanny to be sweet and charming, but she is well aware of this, and is ever on the watch to overcome the evil she discovers within herself. Depend upon it, did she not do so she would not be the delightful creature we think her.”

“Could Fanny possibly have been otherwise than delightful?” said Mrs Vallery.

“Not only possibly, but very probably so, although we, blinded by our love might have overlooked the faults of which she would certainly have been guilty,” answered Mrs Leslie. “One of the chief lessons we should endeavour to impress on young people is the importance of keeping a strict watch over their mind and temper, of putting away every bad thought the instant it comes into the mind, and to suppress at once the rising of bad temper, envy, hatred, and all other evil feelings, while we teach them that Satan, like a roaring lion, is always going about seeking whom he may devour, although the aid of the Holy Spirit will never be sought in vain to drive him away.”

While this conversation was going on between his grandmamma and mamma in the drawing-room Norman remained in the shrubbery. He was afraid to come out, supposing that his mamma was looking for him, and that he would be punished for destroying his sister’s garden, as he had been in the morning for telling a falsehood. Growing weary he at length crept out, and hearing and seeing no one, thought he might venture into the open garden. He soon became tired of being by himself, and wished that Fanny would come out and play with him, then he felt angry with her because she did not, though he well knew that she was attending to her lessons.

At last as he wandered about his eyes fell on the covering of his football.

“That’s what my fine present has come to,” he muttered, “and she has got a beautiful doll all to herself; I do not see why she should be better off than I am. I wonder if anybody could make my ball round again.”

He took it up.

“Perhaps the cook or John can.”

He carried the leathern case in to the cook.

“Make your ball round again Master Norman!” she exclaimed, “it would be a hard job to do that, with the big slit which I see in it. You must get a fresh bladder of the proper size, and then perhaps we may be able to mend the leather case.”

“Can you get me a bladder?” asked Norman.

“A bladder costs money! You must ask your papa to get one for you,” answered the cook, who was not particularly willing to oblige him for the way he had treated his sister, and Susan had prevented him from gaining the goodwill of the servants.

“But I say you must get me a bladder,” exclaimed Norman, “what are you? you are only a servant. I will make you do what I want.”

“I tell you what young gentleman, I will pin a dish-cloth to your back, and send you out of the kitchen, if you speak to me in that way. I am busy now in preparing your grandmamma’s luncheon, and I cannot attend to you.”

Norman after walking about looked very angry for some minutes. Seeing, however, the cook take up a dirty cloth and draw a pin from her dress, he thought it wiser to walk off, and made his way back into the garden.

“I do not see why Fanny should have a beautiful doll and I only a stupid bit of leather,” he muttered to himself. “If I can get hold of that doll of hers, I know what I will do to it, and then she won’t be a bit better off than I am.”

Instead of attempting to overcome the spirit of envy, which sprung up in his heart, he went on muttering to himself that he would soon spoil Miss Lucy’s beauty.

He had not improved in temper, when he was summoned in to dinner.

Neither Mrs Leslie nor his mamma said anything about Fanny’s garden, and he himself was not inclined to introduce the subject. His grandmamma did not speak to him, for she was anxious if possible to make him ashamed of his conduct. Discerning as she was, she was little aware of the obstinacy of his disposition, and that all he cared for, was to avoid punishment.

Fanny had talked to him and tried to amuse him after dinner; as it was still too hot to go out, she invited him to come into the drawing-room, and listen to a pretty story she would read to him out of a book.

After she had read a little time, her grandmamma invited her to sit by her side, that she might go on with some work that she was teaching her to do.

“Come with me, Norman,” said Fanny, jumping up immediately, “granny will let you sit near me on a footstool, and if you hold the book, I can tell you some of the stories by merely looking at the pictures.”

Norman, who liked having stories told to him, made no objection, and sat down quietly on a footstool near Fanny.

“I think Norman, you should now tell Fanny something about India,” said Mrs Leslie, after Fanny had told him several stories.

“It’s a finer country than this, and people do as they are told, that’s one thing I know about it,” observed Norman. “A very good thing too,” said Mrs Leslie, “I always like little boys and girls to do as they are told.”

“But big people do as they are told, our kitmutgars and chaprassey ran off as quick as lightning to do anything I told them, and if not I kicked them.”

“I hope that you will not do so to any one in England, my dear,” said Mrs Leslie.

“I am sorry to say that Norman did sometimes attempt to do as he tells you,” observed Mrs Vallery. “The people he speaks of were our servants. A kitmutgar is a man who waits at table, and a chaprassey is another servant, whose duty it is to run on messages, to attend on ladies when they go out, and to perform the general duties of a footman, though he does not wait at table. You must know, Fanny, in India each person has especial duties, and he considers it degrading to perform any others.

“A groom is called a syce, but he will not cut the grass for his own horse, and requires another man to do so. The head servant, who performs the duty of butler, and purchases all the food for the family, is called a rhansaman.

“A great deal of water is required in the hot weather for bathing and wetting the tatties, and one man is employed in bringing it up from the river to the bungalow in which we lived—he is called a chestie. A different man, however, called an aubdar, takes care that proper drinking water is supplied—we generally used rain water, which was collected in large sheets stretched out between four poles in the rainy season, and drained into earthen jars, where it keeps cool and sweet.

“None of those I have mentioned would clean the rooms, and, therefore, another man a mehter or sweeper was employed. Our clothes were washed by a man called a dhobie; he used to come with his donkey, and carry them off to the river, where he beat them with a flat stick on a wooden slab over and over again till they were clean, and then dried them in the sun.

“When any out-door work was to be done, we hired labourers of the lowest caste, who were called coolies. Then we had a tailor, who made all my clothes as well as Norman’s and his papa’s, and he is called a durize. We had six bearers, who were employed to carry our palanquin, when we went out, and they also had to keep the punkahs at work, besides having other things to do.”

“What a household,” exclaimed Mrs Leslie, “I am glad we have not so many servants to attend to in England. Where did they all live?”

“Some slept rolled up in their sheets on mats in the verandah in front of the bungalow, others in huts by themselves.”

“Had you no maid-servants?” asked Fanny.

“Only one, called an ayah, who acted as my lady’s maid, and took care of Norman, but had nothing else to do,” answered Mrs Vallery.

“Mamma, what are punkahs and tatties?” inquired Fanny, “I did not like to interrupt you when you spoke of them.”

“The punkah is something like an enormous fan suspended to the roof, and when a breeze is required, it is drawn backwards and forwards with ropes by the bearers. Sometimes in hot weather it is kept going day and night, indeed without it at times we should scarcely have been able to bear the heat, or go to sleep at night. The tatties are mats made of a sweet-smelling grass, which are hung up on the side from which the hot wind comes, and being kept constantly wet by the chesties, the air passing through them is cooled by the evaporation which takes place.”

“I suppose you must have lived in a very large house, as you had so many servants to attend on you,” observed Fanny.

“When we were at a station up the country, we resided in a bungalow, which was a cottage, with all the rooms on the ground floor, in the centre of an enclosure called a compound. It was covered with a sloping thickly-thatched roof, to keep out the rays of the sun. In the centre was a large hall which was our sitting-room, with doors opening all round it into the bedrooms, and outside them was a broad verandah. I spoke of doors, but I should rather have called them door-ways with curtains to them, thus the air set moving by the punkahs could circulate through the house, while the sun could not penetrate into the inner room, it was therefore kept tolerably cool.”

“I think we are better off in England, where even in the hottest weather we can keep cool without so much trouble being taken,” observed Fanny. “How I pity the poor men who are obliged to work at the punkahs.”

“They are accustomed to the heat, and it is their business,” observed Mrs Vallery; “they would not have thanked us had we dismissed them, and told them that for their sakes we were ready to bear the hot stifling atmosphere, or to refrain from going out in our palanquins.”

“What are palanquins, mamma?” asked Fanny.

“A palanquin may be described as a litter or sofa without legs, and with a roof over it, carried by means of long poles, one on each side, the ends resting on the shoulders of the bearers. A person travelling in one can recline at full length, and sleep comfortably during a long journey. When travelling by post, or dak, as it is called, fresh bearers are found ready at each stage, just as post-horses are in England.

“When we went out to pay visits for a short distance only we used a tanjahn, in which a person, instead of reclining, sits upright. It is somewhat like an English sedan-chair. We, however, at most of the stations where the roads were good, used open carriages sent out from England.

“Your papa used occasionally, also, to go out hunting tigers on the back of an elephant. He did not, however, bestride it as he would a horse, but sat with one or two other persons in a sort of box, called a howdah, fastened on the animal’s back. The huge creature was guided by a man called a mahout, seated on its neck, with a sharp-pointed stick in his hand. To get into the howdah a ladder is placed against the animal’s side, which stands perfectly quiet, till ordered by the mahout to move on.

“I have on several occasions travelled on the back of an elephant in a much larger howdah than is used for hunting, when I had a chattah or umbrella held over my head.”

“But do the huge elephants gallop after the tigers?” asked Fanny.

“I should think not,” observed Norman, now speaking for the first time. “Papa used to carry a gun, and beaters and dogs went into the jungle to drive out the tigers, and then he used to shoot them. He has often told me about it, and promised to take me when I am big enough. I should like to shoot a tiger.”

“You would not like to see a tiger spring up at the howdah, and try to drag you out of it, as happened when your papa was out shooting one day, and the poor mahout was so dreadfully torn that he died?” observed Mrs Vallery. “Tiger shooting is a very dangerous amusement, and I was always anxious till your papa came back safe. It was no amusement to me in the meantime.”

“Women are silly things, and are always being afraid,” said Norman, with an impudent look.

“That was not a proper remark, Norman, and it was especially rude in you to make it in our presence,” observed Mrs Leslie.

“When I am big I intend to go out tiger shooting, and if other people are afraid, I shall not be,” persisted Norman.

His grandmamma made no further remark, but she cast a look of pity at the boy.

“But are not the elephants frightened, mamma, when they see the tigers?” asked Fanny, anxious to draw off attention from her brother.

“They are wise creatures, and seem to know that their riders have the means of defending them, so that they very seldom run away,” answered Mrs Vallery, “occasionally they take flight. Nothing can be more uncomfortable than having to sit on the back of an elephant under such circumstances. The creature sticks out its trunk and screams as it rushes onward, trampling down everything in its way. Should it pass under trees, it happens occasionally that a branch sweeps its riders with their howdah from its back. Elephants are, however, generally so well-trained, that I never felt any fear when seated on the back of one. They are, indeed, wonderfully sensible creatures, and can be taught to do anything. They sometimes convey luggage and even light guns over rough country, which wheels cannot traverse. With their trunks they lift up enormous logs of wood, and place them exactly as directed when roads are being formed, and they will even build up piles of logs, placing each with the greatest exactness. I have heard of elephants taking up children in their trunks and playing with them, and putting them down again, without doing them the slightest injury. They can, as the natives say, do everything but talk, indeed they seem to understand what is said to them, and I have seen a mahout whisper in his elephant’s ear, when the creature immediately obeyed him, though he possibly may have used some other sign which I did not observe.”

“I should like to travel on the back of one of the well-trained elephants you speak of, mamma, because I could then look about and see the country, though I think that I should at first be somewhat afraid until I got accustomed to it,” remarked Fanny.

“You may be able to try how you like riding on the back of one of them at the Zoological Gardens, where perhaps your papa will take you some day,” said Mrs Leslie, “it is among the places I thought you would like to see, and I told him that I was sure you would be very much interested in going there?”

“I will go too, and take care of you,” said Norman, with a patronising air, “I have ridden on an elephant in India, and if there are any tigers we will shoot them.”

“There are several tigers in the Zoological Gardens, but the owners would object to your shooting them, Norman,” observed Mrs Leslie. “They are safely shut up in cages.”

“I suppose the people are afraid of them,” said Norman, “I am not afraid of tigers, and when I go back to India I intend to shoot a great many.”

“You should not boast so much, Norman,” observed his mamma. “Do you not remember how frightened you were at the tame leopard which our friend Mr James kept in his bungalow, and how, when you first saw the animal, you screamed out and came running to me for protection. I was not surprised, for had its master not been with us I should have been frightened too. But I do not like to hear you boast of your valour, especially when I cannot recollect any occasion on which you have exhibited it.”

Norman held his tongue, and soon after this Captain Vallery returned from London.

Norman ran to him eagerly, expecting that he had a fresh football, or some other toy, but his papa had been too much ashamed of him to think of doing so, and Norman went out of the room grumbling at the neglect with which he was treated.

“He cares for Fanny more than me,” he muttered; “I daresay he has brought her something, but I am not going to let her boast of her beautiful doll, while I have got nothing to play with.”

Fanny did not dream that Norman would ever think of doing any harm to her doll, although every day after she had been playing with it, as it was too large to go into her doll’s house, she either put it away carefully in a drawer, or carried it into granny’s room. Norman therefore, though he looked about for Miss Lucy, could never find her.

Norman was much older than many boys, who can read well, and Mrs Leslie strongly advised Captain Vallery to have him instructed.

“He will learn in good time, and I do not like to run the risk of breaking his spirits by beginning too early,” answered Captain Vallery.

“But unless he begins to learn I do not see how he will ever be able to read, and until he does so, he cannot amuse himself, but must always be dependent upon others,” answered his grandmamma. “I will take him in hand, and when I am unable to teach him I daresay Mrs Norton will do so.”

Captain Vallery at last consented that Norman should begin learning.

Mrs Leslie found him a very refractory pupil, for although he evidently could learn, he would not attend to what she told him, and she was therefore glad to give him over to Mrs Norton. That lady had no idea of allowing a little boy to have his own way, so she kept Master Norman every morning close by her side till he had finished the task she set him. In a few days he knew all the letters, and could soon read short words without difficulty. He however did not feel at all as grateful as he ought to have done, for the instruction given him, and gladly escaped from the schoolroom when Mrs Norton devoted her attention to Fanny.

One day his grandmamma had driven out with his papa and mamma, to call on some friends, when Norman having finished his lessons, Mrs Norton said to him, “You may go out and play on the lawn for an hour, till I call you in again.”

Norman ran off, well pleased to be at liberty, but not knowing exactly what to do with himself.

“If I had my football I might kick it about, and have some fun,” he thought, “no one has taken the trouble to mend it. I should think Fanny, who is so nimble with her fingers as granny says, might have done so.

I must have a game at battledore and shuttlecock, I can play that alone.”

He went into the drawing-room to get one of the battledores, which were kept in an Indian cabinet. No sooner had he opened the door than his eye fell on Miss Lucy, seated in a large arm-chair, where Fanny, who had brought her down to try on a new frock which her mamma had made, had incautiously left her.

“You are there, are you!” said Norman, slowly approaching, “you look as if you were laughing at me. I should like to know what business Fanny has with you, when I have not my football to play with.”

He stopped for a minute or more, looking at the doll with his fists clenched; and instead of trying to drive away the evil thought which had entered his mind, took a pleasure in encouraging it. Still, he did not touch the doll. “I will carry you out, and hide you in a bush, where Fanny cannot find you,” he muttered.

Then he thought that he must take out a battledore and shuttlecock and play with it, or what he proposed doing would be suspected. He went to the cabinet, and opening it, there he saw on an upper shelf the very knife with which he had made the hole in his football.

A dreadful idea seized him, he took the knife and advanced with it towards poor Miss Lucy. Dragging her from the chair, he threw her on the ground and began to cut away at her wax neck with his knife. As the chief part of the edge was blunted, he did not at first make much impression; but, drawing it rapidly backwards till the sharp part towards the point reached the doll’s neck, in one instant off rolled the head. Others who do wicked deeds often injure themselves, so Norman, whose finger was under the point cut a deep gash in it. As he felt the pain, and saw the blood spurting forth, he jumped up, crying lustily for some one to come and help him, utterly regardless of the mischief he had done.

He gazed at his finger, and thought that all the blood in his body would run out.

“Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?” he screamed out. “Is nobody coming to help me?” Then he looked at the doll.

“It was all your fault, you nasty thing,” he exclaimed kicking the doll’s body away from its head, “I wish that I had let you alone. What business had Fanny to leave you in the chair, looking so impudently at me, and if you had your head on, you would be laughing at me still?” then he again looked at his finger, which smarted very much, and as he saw the blood dropping down on the carpet, he bawled louder than ever.

Fanny, during a pause in her reading, heard him. “What can be the matter with Norman?” she exclaimed, “may I run down and see?”

“Yes, my dear, and call me if he has really hurt himself,” said Mrs Norton, “but from the way in which he is crying, I do not think there is anything very serious.”

Fanny ran downstairs. She entered the drawing-room. For a moment, she stood aghast, as the first

object which met her sight, was her dear, pretty Miss Lucy’s head, lying some way apart from her body, with a huge knife near it, and Norman standing not far off.

Fanny, as we have seen was a very sweet amiable girl, but, she had a spirit and a temper, though she generally restrained the latter, when inclined to give way to it. She saw at once that the cruel deed, had been done by Norman, and her heart swelling with indignation, she rushed forward, and gave him a box on the ear. She then threw herself down by the side of her doll, and burst into tears. Then picking it up, she endeavoured to fit on the head.

The unexpected blow, from his usually gentle sister, so astonished Norman, that for a moment he ceased his shrieks.

“You naughty, naughty, boy,” I wish papa had whipped you twice as much as he did, and I hope, he may whip you again, she exclaimed, rising, and about to give him another slap, but just then, her eye fell on his bleeding hand, and he recommenced his shrieks and cries. She stopped, looking at him with alarm.

“Oh, what is the matter? oh, what is the matter?” she cried out.

“Send for the doctor, send for the doctor,” shrieked Norman.

“Come with me to Mrs Norton, she will know what to do,” said Fanny, wrapping his hand up in her handkerchief. “Mamma and granny are out, or they would attend to you.”

“No, no, no, I must have a doctor, I shall die, I know I shall,” cried Norman again and again.

Fanny cast a piteous glance at poor Miss Lucy which she had let fall, and though feeling sure that Norman had cut off her head, she was so much alarmed about him, that without stopping to ask him, with her young heart full of sorrow, she led him up to Mrs Norton. She hoped he had done it by accident, or in play, for she would not allow herself to suppose, that he had been prompted by a spirit of envy and jealousy. Believing too, that he was severely injured, she felt sorry she had lost her temper, and struck him.

“Let me look at your finger, young gentleman,” said Mrs Norton, examining his hand. “Is this a cut to make so much fuss about? Go into your room, and a little water and sticking plaster will soon set it all to rights.”

Mrs Norton having bound up Norman’s finger, asked Fanny how it had happened. Fanny, instead of replying, burst into tears.

“Oh, do not ask me, do not ask me,” she said at length. “I am sure he could not have intended to hurt Miss Lucy, but, O Mrs Norton, he has cut off her head, and I, when I saw what he had done, boxed his ears. I am so very sorry, but I did not see how much he had hurt himself.”

Mrs Norton gave a look at Norman, which ought to have made him ashamed of what he had done.

His answer betrayed the evil spirit which had prompted him to do the deed.

“You should not have had a pretty doll to play with, while I have only an empty football,” he said, in the growling muttering way in which he too often spoke.

“Sit down there, your heart must be a very bad one, to let you indulge in such a feeling,” said Mrs Norton, placing Norman in the large chair, which stood in his room.

Taking Fanny’s hand, she led her downstairs. At first, Mrs Norton said she should leave the doll and knife on the ground to show Mrs Leslie and her mamma how he had behaved, but Fanny entreated her not to do so, and putting the knife back into the cabinet, she took up her doll, over which her tears fell fast, while she tried to replace its head.

“We will try and mend the doll, Fanny,” said Mrs Norton, “but I am afraid an ugly mark must always remain, and though we may succeed in putting on its head, nothing can excuse your brother’s behaviour.”

“Oh, but he is very young, pleaded Fanny,” and it will make granny and mamma, and I am afraid papa also so angry with him, but pray, do not tell them if you can help it. And I ought to have remembered what a little boy he is—and I should not have lost my temper and hit him—it was very naughty in me. “Oh dear, oh dear, how sorry I am,” and Fanny again, gave way to her tears.

Mrs Norton acknowledged that Fanny should not have lost her temper, at the same time she tried to comfort her.

Mrs Norton then told Fanny, that she would take the doll home to try and fix on its head.

“I shall be so much obliged to you, though I do not deserve it,” said Fanny.

“I am glad that you do not feel angry with your little brother, naughty as he has been. It is a blessed thing to forgive an injury, and we are following our Lord and Master’s precept in doing so.”

“I am sure that I should be doing what is very wrong, if I did not forgive him,” answered Fanny, “because I pray to be forgiven as I forgive others, and as he has hurt himself so much, I hope no one else will be angry with him.”

“I trust that the way he has hurt himself will be a lesson to him,” said Mrs Norton, as having wrapped up the doll in her shawl, she accompanied her pupil back to the schoolroom. She allowed Norman to remain sitting in the chair by himself, but before she left the house, she begged Susan to go and attend to him.

As soon as Fanny saw her granny and mamma returning from their drive, she ran down to meet them.

“Norman has cut his finger,” she said, “but Mrs Norton does not think it is very bad, and I want you not to ask me how he did it; pray do this, I shall be so much happier, if you will.”

They said “yes.”

“Thank you, dear granny; thank you, mamma,” exclaimed Fanny, kissing them both.

I think Fanny Vallery had pleasanter dreams than her brother Norman that night.

Chapter Four.

Hard to endure.

Mrs Vallery went upstairs to see Norman. She found him still seated in the chair looking very sulky.

“Mrs Norton and Susan and everybody have been scolding at me,” he muttered; “I wish you would send them all away. And Fanny is as bad as any of them, and nobody cares for me, and Fanny has slapped my face, and I will slap hers another time, though she is a girl,” and Norman began to cry.

“My dear child, we all care very much for you,” said his mamma, not knowing of course how he had cut his finger, and as she had promised Fanny not to do so, she did not ask him. “I am very sorry that Fanny should have slapped your face, but I am afraid you must have done something to provoke her, I must ask her why she did it. I cannot help thinking that you must have been naughty, or Mrs Norton and Susan would not have scolded you. Come down with me into the garden, we will have a game of battledore and shuttlecock on the lawn, the fresh air will do you good.”

“I cannot play, my hand hurts me so much,” answered Norman.

Mrs Vallery, seeing from the small size of the finger-stall Mrs Norton had put on, that the injury could not be very severe, insisted that Norman should accompany her.

“You will soon, I hope, Norman, go to school, where you will have other boys to play with,” observed Mrs Vallery, as she led him downstairs.

She felt that the child was left too much alone by himself, and that if placed with companions of his own age, they would assist to correct some of his many faults. “If his papa consents to send him to school, he will at all events not be permitted there to have his own way, as he has hitherto been,” she said to herself, and she determined to try and get Captain Vallery to select a school as soon as possible, knowing well that Mrs Leslie would support her.

As it was Norman’s left hand which had been hurt, he was very well able to hold a battledore, and after playing with his mamma a short time, he recovered his usual spirits, and appeared totally to forget how naughty he had been. He wondered that nobody had asked him how he had cut his finger, or spoke to him about Miss Lucy, not understanding the forgiving spirit which had induced Fanny to refrain from speaking of his conduct.

“Perhaps she is afraid of saying anything about it, because she slapped my face,” he thought.

At last, Mrs Vallery went in to get ready for dinner.

Fanny found Norman who had been sent into the drawing-room to put the battledores and shuttlecock away.

“How is your finger?” she asked, in a pitying tone.

“Oh, it smarts very much,” he answered, “though I do not think you care much about it.”

“Indeed, I do, dear Norman,” she said; “you do not know how sorry I am that I slapped your face, and granny has given me some salve and some soft linen to bind up your finger again, and if you will come here, I will try and do it very gently, and not hurt you.”

Fanny sat down in her granny’s chair. Taking off the wrapping which Mrs Norton had put on, and which was somewhat stained with blood, she replaced it with a nice soft piece covered with salve, which felt very cool, and soon took away all the pain.

Having done this Fanny affectionately kissed him.

“You will forgive me for slapping your face, won’t you, dear brother?” she said, “you know I could not help feeling angry, when I saw that you had spoilt my beautiful doll; but I do not want you to be punished, and so I have not told anybody except Mrs Norton, and she found it out of herself.”

“You are afraid of being punished for slapping my face,” answered the ungrateful little boy.

“Oh, how can you say that, Norman?” exclaimed Fanny, ready to burst into tears at the unfeeling observation. “I would have told mamma that I slapped you, but then I knew that that would have shown what you had done; but I did tell Mrs Norton, and she said I was wrong, and I knew I was, and I want you to forgive me for that.”

“I do not know what you mean by ‘forgive,’” said Norman.

“That you do not feel angry or vexed, or wish to slap my face, or do me any harm, and that you love me as much as you did before, and will try to forget all about it,” answered Fanny. “That is what I think is the meaning of forgiving, and that is what I know I ought to do about the way you treated Miss Lucy. I wish there would not be the ugly mark on her neck, which I am afraid she always will have, even when Mrs Norton gets her head put on, as she has promised to do; but I must try and make her a high frock with a frill, which will come under her chin, and hide it, and then I shall not see the mark, and so I hope I shall soon forget what you did to her.”

Norman opened his large eyes, and fixed them on his sister.

“I think I know better than I did before what to forgive means,” he observed; “I wish, Fanny, I was more like you.”

Just then Susan, who had been looking for the children to get them ready for tea, came in, and led off Norman. Unfortunately she had discovered how he had treated Miss Lucy, and she thought fit to give him another scolding. This made him angry, and he entirely forgot all that Fanny in her gentle way had told him about forgiveness. Once more he hardened his heart and thought that now he was equal with Fanny, as he had lost his football, and her doll had lost its head.

Captain Vallery returned home later than usual. Norman, who heard his ring at the door, ran down to meet him, and was much disappointed to find that he had not brought a new football.

“I thought, papa, that you would have remembered that my football is spoilt,” he exclaimed, “and would have brought another.”

“But who spoilt it, let me ask?” said Captain Vallery. “As you spoilt the football, you should be the person to mend it, and you should not expect me to bring you a new one.”

“But I cannot mend it, papa,” said Norman.

“People often find that they cannot remedy the harm they have done,” observed his papa.

Norman, who was afraid that his papa might hear of the way he had treated his sister’s doll, did not ask any further questions.

All the next day he behaved much better. His finger hurt him, and morning and evening he went humbly to Fanny to get it dressed, because he found she did it so gently and carefully.

No one said anything about the doll, and he wondered what had become of it. Once or twice he thought that if he could find it he would put it out of the way altogether, for he was dreadfully afraid lest his granny or papa should discover that its head had been cut off. At last he thought he would dig a hole in the garden and put it into it, and cover it up, and then no one would be able to find it.

“Fanny has not told about it,” he thought, “she and Mrs Norton are the only people who know what I did, and as they have said nothing as yet, I hope that they will not.”

Norman did not consider that although neither his papa or mamma or granny might discover what he proposed doing, God would not only see him, but knew already the evil in his heart, and that should he continue to indulge his bad feelings, they would grow with his growth, and when he became a man they would too probably make him do things too terrible to mention.

As soon as he had made up his mind what to do, while Fanny was at her lessons, he stole into her room, expecting to find the doll. He saw that it was not in the doll’s house, and so he looked into her bed, and then he opened all her drawers, but no doll was to be found. He had seen her one day going in with it to granny’s room, so he thought it might be there. Mrs Leslie was downstairs, he therefore hoped that he might be able to creep in and search for the doll without being discovered. He listened, the drawing-room door was closed, and he knew that Susan was not in that part of the house, so, walking on tiptoes, in he stole. He looked about in every part of the room where he thought the doll might be placed.

“Perhaps Fanny puts it in one of the drawers,” he said to himself, “but then what would granny say if she found out that I had looked into them.”

At last he put his hands to the handle, and opened a drawer just wide enough to peep in, but the doll was not there. He opened the next, but using greater force, he pulled it much wider open than he had intended: no doll was within. He tried to close it, but found he could not succeed, he pushed and pushed, still the drawer would not close; at last, putting his shoulder to it, he lifted it up, and the drawer shut, but in doing so it made much more noise than he had expected. There was still another drawer below it—he thought he would just peep in, and then run away as fast as possible. He took hold of the handle, and pulled and pulled, but the drawer would not open, for a good reason, because it was locked. This he did not discover, but thought he would pull once more, and if he did not succeed, he would give it up. He took hold of the handles, and exerted all his strength, suddenly he found, though the handles were in his hands, they had come out of the drawer, and over he rolled backwards. In falling he made a loud thump on the floor. Just then, before he had time to jump up, the door opened, and there stood his granny. She looked at him with astonishment.

“What! have you been trying to open my drawers?” she asked gravely, “it is very wrong in you if you have,” but she felt too much grieved at such a thing to speak angrily.

“I came to look—to look—to look for Fanny’s doll,” blurted out Norman.

“To look for Fanny’s doll!” said Mrs Leslie, “I thought you did not care for dolls? Did Fanny send you for hers?”

“No,” answered Norman, “but I wanted her.”

“Fanny has not brought her doll to me for some time, and perhaps she has a good reason for not doing so,” said Mrs Leslie, looking at Norman. “It would, even if you knew that the doll was there, have been very wrong of you to have looked into my drawers without my permission. I am sure your papa and mamma would not approve of your doing so.”

“Oh, do not tell them!” cried Norman, “perhaps papa will beat me again, and it’s all Fanny’s fault, she should not have had a doll now that my football is spoilt!”

“I will make no promises,” said Mrs Leslie, “go into your room, and remain there, while I speak to your mamma. The last remarks you made about your sister having a doll, shows that you have a jealous feeling of her, and prevents me from wishing to get your football mended, as I had thought of doing. People who are jealous of others are never happy, and I should only encourage you, were I to do as I purposed.”

Norman went into his room and sat himself down in his arm-chair. He thought that granny had let him off very well, as she had only scolded him, and what she had said did not make him at all ashamed of himself, nor did he see his fault. His only fear was that granny might tell his papa, who, though he allowed him to have his own way in many things, would, he had sense enough to know, be very much displeased with what he had done.

“What can have become of Miss Lucy though?” he thought, “I still must try to find her! I wonder if they know that I cut off her head.”

He was allowed to remain in his room till he heard Fanny, who had done her lessons, calling to him. She invited him to have a game before dinner on the lawn.

When there, she produced from under her pinafore a trap and bat.

“Papa brought this yesterday in his pocket and gave it to me that I might play with you.”

Fanny put it down on the ground.

“What a strange looking thing,” exclaimed Norman, “what are we to do with it?”

“I will show you,” said Fanny, putting the ball into the trap and taking the bat in her right hand. “Now keep a little behind me, and I will force the ball up, then I will hit it with the bat and send it up into the air to a distance.”

Fanny, very adroitly, made the ball fly nearly across the lawn.

“You observe where it fell; now go there and try and catch it, and if you do so you will get me out, and you will have the right to come and play at the trap till I put you out. Or, if you roll the ball up and hit the trap you put me out.”

Fanny played for some time, but at last, finding that Norman could not catch the ball nor roll it against the trap, thought that he would become impatient, and she hit it only a little way. He ran up, and without discovering that she did this to please him, soon managed to roll the ball against the trap.

“Ah, I have put you out at last, Miss,” he exclaimed, “and now you shall see where I send the ball to, you had better go to the other side of the lawn, and try and catch me out if you can!”

Norman seized the bat, looking as if he was going to do great things, and Fanny went, as he desired her, to a distance.

The first time he struck the trap he upset it, and the ball tumbled down by his side. Again and again he tried to hit the ball, but always missed it, and it sometimes scarcely rose out of the cup.

“What a stupid bat this is,” he exclaimed, losing patience, “I wonder you could manage to make the ball jump out of it.”

“All you want is patience and practice,” answered Fanny, “try and try again, I do not mind looking out for you?”

Norman made a few more attempts, with equal want of success.

“You have done something to the trap I am sure, or I should be able to hit the ball,” he cried out.

“Nonsense!” said Fanny laughing, “it is entirely your own fault, strike the tail more gently and keep your eye on the ball, you will be able to hit it.”

Once more he tried, but instead of hitting the trap more gently, Norman used greater force, and consequently upset it, and looking to see what had happened, instead of keeping his eyes on the ball, the latter in falling hit him slightly on the head; this was enough for him, and when Fanny, laughing, was coming up to him, altogether losing his temper he threw the bat at her with all his force. It fortunately missed her head, but striking her on the shoulder hurt her very much.

“O Norman, how could you do that!” she exclaimed, seizing him by the arm. “I was only going to show you how to use the bat, and you might have killed me,” she said, naturally feeling very angry with him. “You naughty, naughty boy!”

Norman lifted up his fist as if about to strike her, Fanny seized his other arm, he struggled to free himself. At that moment Mrs Vallery came out of the house.

“What are you children about?” she asked. “Fanny my dear, what are you doing to your little brother?”

“She was laughing at me,” cried out Norman, “and because I was angry, she is pinching me all over.”

“Indeed, I am not,” said Fanny, and though an instant before she had felt very angry with Norman, having overcome the feeling, she did not like to say that he had thrown the bat at her.

“I laughed at him, mamma, merely because he missed the ball so often, and when I came near him he wanted to hit me.”

“And I did hit you,” cried Norman, “and I will hit you again if you laugh at me,” and again he struggled to get free.

“My dear Fanny, you should have more consideration for your little brother,” remarked Mrs Vallery, coming up to them.

Fanny let go her hold of Norman, who gave a vicious kick out at her as she did so, and ran to his mamma’s side.

Poor Fanny felt inclined to cry at the rebuke she had received, and yet she would not excuse herself by saying what Norman had done. That young gentleman, considering he had gained a triumph, shouted out—

“Now you may go and play by yourself, I do not want to have anything more to do with the stupid trap and bat.”

“It is very ungrateful in you to say that, Norman, after your papa brought it down expressly for you,” said Mrs Vallery. “Stay and play on, and try if you cannot do better; and, Fanny, let me ask you not to laugh at the little fellow if he does not manage to hit the ball as often as you do.”

“I will gladly stop and play with Norman, and promise not to laugh at him,” answered Fanny, ever ready to forgive, though, as she moved her arm, she felt much pain.

“Will you try again, Norman, and let me show you how you may hit the ball?” she said gently.

Norman sulkily consented, and their mamma, thinking that he was reconciled to his sister, returned to the house.

Fanny again set to work to show her brother how he ought to strike the trap, and in a short time, by following her directions, he was able to send the ball some distance. He now, highly delighted, kept her running about in all directions. Her arm hurt her too much to enable her to catch the ball, and though she might frequently have rolled it back against the trap and put him out, seeing how much amused he was she refrained from doing so.

“We will have another game by-and-by,” he exclaimed, as they were summoned to dinner, and he went in highly pleased with his performance, and ready to boast about it, but he entirely forgot the injury he had done to poor Fanny.

They had another game in the afternoon, though Fanny could with difficulty play.

When she was putting on her frock in the evening to go down to dessert, Susan observed that her shoulder was very black.

“What have you done to your shoulder, Miss Fanny?” she asked; “I must put something to it.”

Fanny had to confess that Norman had thrown the bat at her, but begged Susan not to scold him.

“I cannot promise, Miss, not to do that,” she answered, “I am so angry with him. He is a regular little tyrant. Trusty knows it, if nobody else does, for, from the day the young gentleman came into the house he has kept away from him, and I think he ought to be whipped for many other things besides telling stories.”

Fanny again pleaded in her usual way for her young brother, though she could not help confessing to herself that Susan was right.

At dessert Fanny sat next to her grandmamma, but her hurt shoulder was turned away from her and was towards Norman, who saw the black mark and remembering how it must have been caused, was in a great fright all the time he was eating the dish of strawberries his papa gave him, lest some one else would discover it. It might possibly have prevented him from enjoying his dessert as much as he otherwise would have done. Their mamma was sitting opposite, and saw the mark, but thought it was a shadow cast on Fanny’s shoulder, and thus no one said anything on the subject.

Norman congratulated himself when he and Fanny went up to bed, that his violent act had escaped detection. Susan, however, who had undertaken to put him to bed, asked him how he had dared to strike his sister in the way he had done.

“I did not strike her, she held my arms and pinched me too much for that.”

“What do you call throwing a bat at her and hitting her with it, then?” asked Susan.

“If you ask me questions I will strike you, you tiresome thing,” exclaimed Norman, tearing off his clothes as fast as he could, in the hopes of getting Susan quickly out of the room.

“You had better not, young gentleman,” said Susan; “your grandmamma does not allow anybody to be struck in this house, and I should hold you a good deal tighter than your sister did.”

Norman never dared to answer Susan when she spoke in that tone of voice, and so he held his tongue till she had washed him and put him into bed, when his mamma came upstairs to hear him say his prayers. I am afraid that Norman merely uttered the words, for his heart was certainly not right towards God, nor did he even feel sorry for what he had done.

The next day, when Mrs Norton arrived, Norman saw that she had something wrapped up in her shawl. As she unfolded it, there was Miss Lucy, with a high dress, and frill round her neck.

“Oh, thank you! thank you! dear Mrs Norton,” exclaimed Fanny, kissing her, “how very kind of you, and such a pretty dress! She really looks as nice as ever, and I am sure I shall soon forget what a dreadful accident happened to her,” and she cast a forgiving, affectionate look at Norman. He did not return it, but eyed Miss Lucy askance, muttering, “My ball is not mended.”

Mrs Norton did not hear him, and Fanny hoped her ears had deceived her.

“My dear, why do you not lean on your left arm, as I have told you,” said Mrs Norton when Fanny was taking her writing lesson.

“My shoulder hurts me,” answered Fanny, “and, if you will excuse me, I will try and write without doing so.”

“There, now, she is going to tell her governess I threw the bat at her,” thought Norman.

Fanny particularly wished to avoid giving any reason why her shoulder hurt her, and when Mrs Norton asked what was the matter with her arm, she replied, that it was nothing very serious, she was sure, and hoped that it would soon be well.

Mrs Norton seeing that she did not wish to talk about it, forebore to question her on the subject.

As soon as her lessons were over, Fanny took her doll up to her room, and reintroduced her to Nancy. Norman who had followed her, watched her with an envious eye, as she made the two dolls talk to each other.

After she had played with them for some time, she put Miss Lucy on her bed, and she and Norman went down into the drawing-room.

Norman had not given up his evil intention of putting Miss Lucy out of the way. He forgot all his sweet sister’s forbearance, and loving-kindness towards him; and still allowed that terrible feeling of envy to rankle in his heart.

A few days before, Mrs Leslie and her daughter had received an invitation to pay a visit, with the children, to some friends in Scotland. Captain Vallery was unable to accompany them, being detained in London, but he expected shortly to follow. Fanny was delighted at the thought of visiting the Highlands, and seeing the beautiful lakes and streams, and mountains, she had heard so much of.

“I don’t care for those sort of things,” observed Norman, as he heard their plans discussed at dinner.

“Shall we have elephants to ride on, or tiger shooting?” he asked, “that would suit papa and me best.”

Fanny burst into a fit of merry laughter, at which Norman got very angry.

“Don’t you know that there are no elephants or tigers in this part of the world?” inquired Fanny. “The only wild animals are deer, and I always think how cruel it is to shoot such beautiful creatures, when I hear of people hunting them.”

“Perhaps papa and I will go out and shoot them, only women and girls think shooting cruel,” said Norman scornfully.

“A little boy should not speak disrespectfully of the tender feelings of women and girls,” observed Mrs Leslie. “Fanny is very right when she expresses her sorrow, at hearing of deer being killed merely for sport, though if they were allowed to live in great numbers they would prevent other more useful animals from finding pasture.”

“I say it is very good fun, shooting animals of all sorts,” exclaimed Norman.

“You should not speak to your grandmamma in that tone,” said Mrs Vallery.

Norman always grew angry when rebuked, and muttered something to himself, of which no one took notice.

After dinner Fanny remained with her granny and mamma to do some work, while Norman stole out of the room. He stood in the hall for some minutes, and then creeping upstairs, went into Fanny’s bed-chamber. There on the bed lay Miss Lucy. Taking her up he silently came downstairs, and made his way by the back door into the garden, hoping that no one observed him.

“I will pay Fanny off for laughing at me,” he muttered, as he ran quickly, with Lucy in his arms, towards the plot of ground at the farthest end, near Fanny’s garden which had remained uncultivated. He had left Fanny’s spade there the day before. Picking it up and hiding the doll in the shrubbery, he began digging away in the soft ground till he had made a large and deep hole. Not caring how much the earth would spoil Miss Lucy’s wax face and pretty dress, he placed her in it, and then covered her completely over, smoothing the ground so that, as he thought, no one would discover that he had been digging there.

“Now though my football is spoilt, Fanny will never get her doll again, and so we are equal,” he muttered to himself, as he went towards the tool-house to leave the spade there.

Just then he caught sight of Trusty running along the path. The dog never came near him if he could help it.

Norman put the spade where he had intended, and returning to the lawn, began playing with his trap and ball. He soon grew tired of being by himself, so going to the drawing-room window, he shouted out—

“Fanny I want you to come and play with me.”

“You may go out, and try and amuse your little brother,” said Mrs Vallery, “he should not be left so much by himself.”

Fanny, though she wanted to finish her work, without a word of remonstrance, put it aside, and ran out to the lawn.

“Now, Fanny, just try and catch the ball if you can, I have got the trap, so I intend to be in first,” said Norman striking the trap with his bat.

Fanny did as her brother asked her.

For some time, though she might easily often have put him out, wishing to afford him all the amusement in her power, she refrained from doing so. When she proposed stopping, he, in his usual style, ordered her to go on. She did so a few minutes longer, and, as he now managed to hit the ball to a considerable distance, she had to run about a great deal. At last she began to lose patience, and, rolling the ball against the trap, she told him that he must now give up the bat to her. On this he threw it down, declaring he had played long enough.

“That is not fair,” she exclaimed. “You ought to go and look out for me.”

He refused to do so, and walked away; while Fanny, feeling more angry with him than she had ever before been, went into the house.

“As Norman will not play properly, I must go and amuse myself with Miss Lucy,” she thought.

She entered her room; Miss Lucy was not on her bed, where she was certain she had left her. She hunted about, and then went to Susan to ask if she had taken her.

“I have not even been into your room, Miss Fanny,” answered Susan; “but I suspect, if she has gone, who took her. Just do you go and ask your brother.”

Fanny ran after Norman, and found him in the path leading to their part of the garden.

“Where is my doll?” she inquired.

“What do I know about your doll?” he exclaimed. He was afraid to say that he had not taken her because he remembered the whipping his papa had given him.

“I am sure you have taken her,” exclaimed Fanny; “Susan says so, and told me to ask you.”

“How did she dare to say that?” cried Norman. “You had better look for your doll, and if you find her you will have her again, and if not, you will not be worse off than I am without my football, which I liked just as much as you do your stupid doll.”

“My doll is not stupid,” cried Fanny; “you tried to make her so by cutting her head off, you naughty, ill-natured boy;” and Fanny seized his arm feeling much inclined to box his ears.

“Let me alone,” cried Norman. “I am not going to talk about your stupid doll, and stupid she is; and I wish Mrs Norton had not put on her head again. I will tell papa you pinched me, though you do pretend to be so sweet and gentle.”

Fanny felt both hurt and indignant and angry at this accusation. She let go her brother’s arm, and looked at him in a way which she had never before done.

“You have taken my doll, I know you have, and I do not believe you, even though you say that you have not,” she exclaimed.

“I won’t say anything about it,” said Norman, looking very determined.

“Then I must ask granny and mamma, to make you, you naughty boy,” she cried.

“They cannot make me if I do not know where she is; and I will pay you off for threatening me,” cried Norman.

Fanny was going back to the house, feeling unable to bear any longer with her little brother, when she caught sight of Trusty, at the further end of the walk, scratching away with might and main in the ground near her garden. Norman saw him too, and felt very uncomfortable. If he did not drive the dog away, what he had done would certainly be discovered; but he dare not go near him without his whip, for Trusty was apt to snarl if he attempted to catch him.

“What can Trusty be about?” she exclaimed, going towards her garden.

Norman followed, though he would rather have run away. As he went on he picked up some stones, which the gardener had dug up out of a newly-made bed. He was just going to throw one at the dog, when Fanny turning round saw him and held his hand; while Trusty, scratching away more vehemently than ever, caught hold of a piece of white muslin, which he had exposed to view, and dragged forth poor Miss Lucy sadly dirtied and disfigured. Norman let the stones drop from his hands in dismay.

“You did it! I know you did! You buried her when she was not dead—though you had cut her head off—you naughty, wicked, bad boy,” cried Fanny bestowing several slaps on her brother’s face ere she rushed forward to pick up her doll.

Fanny’s tears fell fast while she endeavoured to brush off the black earth from poor Miss Lucy’s face, and shook her muslin frock; but still a great deal of earth remained about her hair, and in her eyes and mouth. Poor Fanny lost all control of herself as she gazed at the sad spectacle. Norman stood by unmoved though he did not like the boxes on the ears he had received. Again Fanny flew at him and repeated her blows, when Trusty began to bark, eager to assist his young mistress, and very sure that she was doing right.

Norman on this, taking fright, ran along the path towards the house as fast as he could go, Trusty barking at his heels, and Fanny following him. The boy shrieked as he ran, crying louder and louder.

His voice reached his mamma’s ears, and she hurried out, fearing that some accident had happened. Mrs Leslie also came out; and at the same moment Captain Vallery arrived. Norman rushed up to them, shrieking out that Trusty was going to bite him, and that Fanny had been beating him black and blue.

Fanny came up directly afterwards, the tears dropping from her eyes, her face flushed, and still bearing the traces of her unusual anger, while her sobs prevented her from explaining what had happened, or defending herself. All she could do, was to hold up her doll, and point to Norman.

“He did it, he did it!” then her tears gushed forth afresh.

“She beat me, she beat me!” retorted Norman.

“I am afraid you both have been very naughty,” said Mrs Vallery.

“You know I never allow Norman to be beaten except by me,” observed Captain Vallery.

Mrs Leslie, who had more confidence in Fanny than her own parents had, said—

“Let us hear what provocation Norman gave, before we condemn her. What has occurred, my dear child?”

“He buried Miss Lucy to hide her from me,” sobbed Fanny. “If Trusty had not pulled her out, I should never have found her, and she would have been entirely spoilt; as it is, the poor creature’s eyes are full of dirt, and her pretty gown is all covered with earth.”

Fanny continued sobbing as if her young heart would break.

Her granny now led her into the house, followed by Mrs Vallery holding Norman by the hand.

Though he would not confess what he had done, the fact was evident, but as he had not told a story, his papa did not offer to whip him, as he deserved. Mrs Vallery spoke to him very seriously, and he listened to her lecture quietly enough, as he did not mind being scolded.

Her granny had done her best in the meantime to comfort Fanny, and with the assistance of Susan put Miss Lucy to rights, though several ugly marks remained on her face, and her frock required to be carefully washed.

Before going to bed she found Norman, and telling him how sorry she was that she had beaten him, forgave him with all her heart for the injury he had done her doll.

“You will not try to hurt her again, will you, Norman?” she said, “promise me that, or I shall be afraid of leaving her for a moment, lest you should find her, and do her some harm.”

Norman promised, and Fanny kissed him, and felt at length more happy, though, as she laid her young head on the pillow, it seemed, as if something very terrible had happened during the day. Norman did not trouble himself much about the matter; he had got off very cheaply, and it is possible that he really was happier than if he had succeeded in hiding Miss Lucy, and utterly destroying her—he certainly would have been very uncomfortable while people were looking for her, and he was dreading that she would be discovered, and his wicked act brought to light.

The day arrived when the family were to go to Scotland. Captain Vallery accompanied them to London, and saw them off by the train. Fanny had never made so long a journey before, as she had only been up and down occasionally with her granny to town. It seemed very strange to her to find the train going on and on, passing by towns, and villages, and country houses, without stopping: sometimes for a whole hour together it flew on and she found that fifty miles had been passed over. Norman laughed at her exclamations of surprise and delight.

“Oh, this is nothing,” he observed, “we have come all the way from India by a steamer, through the Suez Canal and then along the Mediterranean and right through France.”

“You are a young traveller; Fanny knows that. Perhaps some day she may make the same journey,” observed Mrs Leslie. “Still you should not despise your sister, because she has not seen as much as you have.”

The party remained a few days in Edinburgh to see various friends, and then proceeded on to Glen Tulloch—a romantic place in the Highlands—the residence of Mr and Mrs Maclean, with whom they had been invited to stay.

Every one was pleased with Fanny, and thought Norman a very fine boy, and he was perfectly satisfied with the praises he heard bestowed on him.

The house stood on the side of a hill, with a stream running into a loch on one side, and a wide extent of level wild ground above it.

Mr Maclean showed the children a rough little carriage he had had built, and told Fanny that she might take it out whenever she liked, and give her brother a drive over the moor.

“I daresay as he has only just come from India, he is unaccustomed to walk over our rough ground, and you need not be afraid of breaking the carriage, you can go where you like.”

Fanny was delighted, and offered at once to take Norman out.

“Yes, and I will sit in the carriage, and drive you with my whip, that will be good fun,” said Norman.

His whip, however, had not been brought to Scotland, but Mr Maclean, who thought he was in fun, cut him a long stick, and helped the children up the hill with the carriage. When they got on level ground, he wished them good-bye, and Fanny dragging the carriage into which Norman got, they proceeded on their journey.

The carriage was roughly made, being merely a wooden box cut out, on either side with thick wooden wheels, and a pole by which it was dragged. Norman, however, thought it very good fun to sit in it, and be drawn along. At first, he contented himself with merely flourishing the stick, but when Fanny did not go fast enough to please him, he began to hit at her with it.

“Go on, my little horse, go on. I wish you were a coolie, and I would soon make you move faster,” he shouted out, hitting at her several times.

As long as he only struck her dress, Fanny did not mind, but when the young tyrant, leaning forward, began to beat her on the shoulders, she turned round and declared that she would go no farther if he did so again.

“But I will make you,” he answered; “go on, I say.”

Fanny stopped, and again told him not to use his stick as he was doing.

“Well, go on and you will see,” he said, letting his stick hang out behind the carriage, for he was afraid that she would take it from him.

Fanny once more began to drag the carriage forward, but she had not got far when she felt the stick on her shoulders.

“You are not going fast enough to please me,” cried Norman.

“I told you that I would not draw you at all if you hit me, and you have done so notwithstanding,” said Fanny, feeling very angry.

“You cannot leave me out here by myself, so you must drag me home,” said Norman, “and I am determined that you shall go as fast as I like.”

“Home we will go, then,” answered Fanny, and, turning the carriage round, she began to return by the way they had come.

Norman seemed determined to make her angry, for after they had gone a little way he again hit her with the end of his stick. Suddenly turning round, she snatched it from him, and, breaking it in two, threw it to a distance.

Norman was afraid of getting out, lest his sister should run off with the carriage, and as she could not now be struck, she dragged it home as fast as she could go.

Mr Maclean seemed somewhat surprised to see his young friends return so soon.

Norman lost his excursion, and Fanny, in her kindness, thinking that he was sufficiently punished, did not say how he had treated her.

Chapter Five.

In the Highlands.

“I hope you had a pleasant excursion, my dears, on the moor,” said Mrs Maclean, when they entered the house.

“Oh, we had very good fun, and we should have had more if Fanny would have gone farther,” answered Norman. “She cannot stand jokes, and because I just touched her with my stick she would not go on.”

Fanny cast a reproachful glance at Norman. She had determined not to complain of him, and now he was trying to make it appear that he had come back through her want of temper. This was very hard indeed to bear, but she did not attempt to defend herself, for she knew that her granny would be aware of the truth, and that satisfied her, and she was unwilling to make her little brother appear to disadvantage in the eyes of their hostess.

“I shall be very happy to take Norman out again whenever he likes, and I hope that I shall be able to draw him farther than I did to-day,” she said quietly.

Mrs Maclean was a very kind lady, an old friend of their granny’s, and Fanny thought her very like her; she had the same quiet, but yet firm, manner, and she seemed to take an interest in what she and Norman said and did, and to be anxious to amuse them.

Mr Maclean was a Highland gentleman who preferred spending his days among his native moors and heathery hills, to living in a town and mixing in the world.

Norman whispered to Fanny that he thought he was an old farmer, when he first saw him in his tartan shooting-coat and trowsers, with a bonnet on his head, a plaid over his shoulders, and a thick stick in his hand. Old as he was, however, he could walk many a mile over those heathery hills he loved so well, and not only Norman, but Norman’s papa, might have had some difficulty in keeping up with him. He was as kind as Mrs Maclean, and soon took a great fancy to Fanny; Norman discovered that, somehow or other, he did not stand so well in his opinion.

The laird, as he was called, now entered the room—“Well, young people, you took but a short excursion to-day,” he observed; “perhaps, Mistress Fanny, you found the carriage rather heavy to drag, and if you have a fancy for a row on the loch, as I am going down after luncheon to try and catch a few trout for dinner, I shall be glad to take you with me.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr Maclean, I should so like to go,” answered Fanny. “May we, mamma? may we, granny?”

Mrs Leslie and her mamma willingly gave their consent.

“I must ask you to take care that Norman does not tumble into the water, though,” said Mrs Vallery.

“I will make a line fast to the young gentleman’s leg, and soon haul him out again if he does,” answered Mr Maclean, laughing.

“I can take very good care of myself, thank you,” said Norman; “but I should like to see you catch some fish, if they are good big ones.”

“There are not finer in any loch in Scotland, but they will not always rise to the fly,” observed Mr Maclean.

As soon as luncheon was over, the laird, carrying his rod and fishing-basket, and accompanied by his two young friends, set off for the loch. On their way they were joined by Sandy Fraser, a tall, thin, old man, with grey hairs escaping from under his bonnet. Sandy had been Mr Maclean’s constant attendant from his boyhood, and had followed him to many parts of the world which he had visited before he settled down in his Highland home.

On reaching the loch, they found a boat, and Sandy took the oars. The two children were placed in the centre, Mr Maclean took his seat in the stern, and Sandy rowed away towards the further end of the loch. On one side the hills, with here and there bare, grey rocks appearing on their steep sides, rose directly out of the water, and were reflected on its calm surface.

“Why, the hills are standing on their heads,” exclaimed Norman, who for the first time in his life had witnessed such a scene.

Rowing on, they passed several pretty islands covered thickly with trees, among which, Fanny said, she should like to have a hut and live like Robinson Crusoe.

“No, I should be Robinson Crusoe, and you should be Friday,” exclaimed Norman, who knew the story, as it was in one of Fanny’s picture-books.

“Young gentleman, you should be proud of working for your sister,” observed the laird, who was busy getting his fishing-tackle ready. “It is far more manly to work for others, than to let others work for you.”

Norman held his tongue, for he had an opinion that he had better not contradict the old gentleman as he was accustomed to do other persons.

Fanny watched Mr Maclean with great curiosity, as, at length having reached a spot where, the breeze playing over the surface, he expected the fish to rise, he began to throw the little fly at the end of his long line. Now he made it skim the water from one side to the other, now he drew it towards him, always keeping it in motion, just as a real fly would play over the surface. On a sudden there was a splash, and for an instant the head of a fish was seen above the surface, and the tip of the light rod bending, the line ran rapidly out of his reel. The laird began at length to wind up the line, in vain the poor fish swam here and there, it could not get the sharp hook out of its mouth. Sandy, laying in his oars, got the landing-net ready. The rod was so light that it could not have borne the weight of the fish, but by putting the net beneath it he easily lifted it into the boat.

“Oh, what a fine fish,” exclaimed Fanny, as she examined the large loch trout which had been caught; “what delicate colours it has! How beautifully it is marked on the back!”

“We must get a few more, though, to make up our dish,” said Mr Maclean, getting his line ready for another throw.

A second unwary trout was soon caught, and a third, and a fourth.

“I should like to fish too,” exclaimed Norman. “Won’t you let me have your long stick and string, Mr Maclean? It seems very easy, and I am sure I should soon catch some.”

The laird laughed heartily.

“You are more likely to tumble into the water, and then we should have to catch you, young gentleman,” he answered. “It will take a good many years before you can throw a fly, let me tell you.”

Norman was not convinced.

“I’ll get Sandy to row me out some day.”

“He is welcome to do that; but remember, you must not be tumbling overboard.”

“I can take very good care of myself,” answered Norman, folding his arms, and trying to look very grand.

A broad grin came over the countenance of Sandy, who knew enough of English to understand him. He nodded to his master.

“If he comes with me I will take gude care of the child, and maybe he will catch a big trout some day; and you will come, young lady, and I will teach you to catch fish too,” he said, turning to Fanny.

“Oh, I am sure I should not like to ran a hook into their mouths, it must hurt them so dreadfully,” answered Fanny.

“They are given to us for food, my little girl,” observed Mr Maclean, “and most conscientiously I believe they suffer no real pain, and although the instinct of self-preservation makes them wish to escape, I doubt even whether they are frightened when they feel the hook in their mouths.”

Still Fanny was incredulous, and thought she should never agree with the laird on that point.

“I do not care whether the fish are hurt or not if I want to catch them,” observed Norman, showing his usual indifference to the feelings of others, whether human beings or animals.

Fanny enjoyed the row very much, and thanked Sandy for offering to take her and Norman out.

They reached home in time to have the trout dressed for dinner, and the laird insisted that the children should come down, and partake of some of the fish which they, as he said, had assisted to catch.

The laird was fond of the study of natural history, and narrated a number of anecdotes especially of the sagacity of animals.

“Fanny and I have a difference of opinion as to whether fish when caught do or do not feel pain,” he observed. “I remember reading an anecdote which, if true, supports what she thinks. A surgeon was one day walking by the side of a pond in a gentleman’s grounds in England, when he saw a large pike, which had struck its head against a piece of iron projecting from a sunken log, and was struggling in the water close to the bank. The fish did not attempt to swim away, nor did it seem alarmed, when the surgeon stooped down, and lifted it gently out of the water. He at once saw that the jaw of the fish had been broken, and with his penknife and some strips of wood and linen, which he had in his pocket, he dexterously managed to bind up the jaw, after doing which, he placed the fish in the water. It did not even then swim away, but as long as he remained on the bank, kept watching him attentively.

“The next day, going down to the pond what was his surprise to see the fish swim towards him, and poke his head out of the water. He perceived that some of the bandaging had been displaced, and lifting the fish as before gently on the bank he dressed the wound, and again returned it to its native element. As he walked along the bank, the fish swam by his side, and not till he turned his back, did it dart off into deep water.

“The following day, he again went down to the pond, when the fish swam up to where he stood, though it did no more than come to the edge, being apparently satisfied that its wound was going on well. As long as he remained in the place, the fish invariably appeared whenever he went to the pond, and swam close to the edge, as he walked along the bank.

“I must confess that that fish must have had as much sense as many other animals, and probably felt more pain when injured, and would have been alarmed, if it had been attacked, or had found a hook in its jaws.”

“But is the story really true?” asked Fanny.

“It is at all events as well authenticated as many other anecdotes,” answered the laird. “By-the-by, Mrs Vallery, I should like to witness the performances of the snake-charmers in India. Have you ever seen them?”

“Frequently,” answered Mrs Vallery. “They are very wonderful, and my husband has taken some pains to ascertain whether there is any imposture, but without success. They profess to charm the Cobra de Capella and other snakes, which are excessively venomous, and abound in all the hotter parts of the country. It is said, indeed, that 12,000 natives are killed annually by bites from them. The snake-charmers do not previously train the snakes, but will charm those only just caught, quite as well as those they carry about with them.

“They use for this purpose, a hollow gourd on which they play a buzzing music. On one occasion, three men appeared, dressed only in their turbans and waist cloths, in which it was impossible they could have concealed any snakes. My husband took them to some wild ground, where they speedily caught a couple of large cobras, and returning with the venomous creatures having placed them on the ground, made them rear up their bodies, and raise and bow their heads, keeping exact time with the music. After they had ceased, my husband speedily killed the snakes, and on examining them the poison fangs were found to be perfect. Generally, however, the snake-charmers either extract the fangs of the snakes they carry about with them, or wisely employ those which are harmless. They allow the creatures to crawl over their bodies, and twist and twine themselves in the most horrible manner round their necks and arms, and I have seen a snake putting its forked tongue into its master’s mouth.

“There are instances, however, of the venomous serpents biting the snake-charmers, who have thus lost their lives.

“At one of the stations where my husband was quartered, snakes were very numerous, and we used to keep a mongoose in the house to destroy them. It is a pretty little animal, a species of ichneumon with catlike habits and a very prying disposition. The common idea is, that if bitten by a venomous serpent, it runs to find a particular herb, which prevents the venom taking effect. This, however, is not really the case, the mongoose depends upon its own vigilance and great agility for escaping from the fangs of even the most active serpent, for if bitten, it would die like any other animal.

“I should not like to see men allowing snakes to put their tongues in their mouths, even though I knew that the fangs had been taken out,” observed Fanny. “But I should like to see the jugglers you were speaking of, mamma, who performed such wonderful tricks.”

“I was mentioning the Indian gipsies or Nutts, as they are called, who travel as those in England used to do, from one end of the country to the other, and appear to have no settled home. A party arrived one day at our station, and offered to exhibit their tricks, and your papa gave them leave to do so.

“There were among them several persons of all ages. First an old man took his seat on the ground and began violently beating a drum, shouting out that we should soon see what we should see. Meantime a young man and a boy had fixed firmly in the ground a bamboo nearly thirty feet high, and while thus engaged, another man singing in a monotonous voice, was running round and round it. Presently a woman who was standing by, leaped on the shoulder of the running man, who did not stop, but continued his course as before, rapidly increasing his speed. In another minute she had leaped on his head, and there she stood with perfect steadiness, while he ran still faster, and the old man beat the drum louder and louder, shrieking all the time, even more shrilly than before, till the noise became almost deafening.

“While our senses were somewhat bewildered by the sound, the boy ran up to the running man with a large earthen pot, which the latter in a wonderful way placed on his head; the woman having, I suppose, in the meantime put her feet on his shoulders, for before I could follow her movements she appeared standing on the top of the pot, the man still running round as before.

“The man who had been fixing the pole in the earth, now advanced, and taking up a heavy stone ball which it would have required a strong man to lift even a few inches from the ground, began playing with it, catching it now on one shoulder, now on the other, then in his hands, and on his arms and feet. Next he threw up two ivory balls, quickly adding others in succession, till there were no less than eight kept in motion at the same time, flying up in the air.

“The first party, who had in the meantime been resting, now arranged a flat circular brass dish, of considerable size, on which were placed four pillars about three inches high. These were connected by four sticks, with other sticks above them, and then more pillars, and so on, till there were fully thirty pillars one above another, with a brass dish on the top of all. We thought it surprising that this structure could stand as it did, but greater was our amazement to see it lifted on the man’s head while he was circling round the post, and still more astonished were we, when the woman sprang like lightning up in the air and stood on the top of all, as steadily as if she was on the ground, while the man continued rapidly circling round.

“After this, one of the men leaped on the shoulders of the other, who was standing close to the pole, and then the woman making use of them as a ladder, sprang to the very top of the pole, on the point of which she lay in a horizontal position, when one of the men who had followed her, touching her foot, she began to spin round and round, like the card of a pocket compass on its point.

“The men performed a variety of other tricks, but those I have mentioned are the most wonderful.

“Here was no room for deception, though many of the tricks performed by Indian jugglers are really the result of clever sleight-of-hand.”

“I think I would rather see the tricks which the conjuror did when we went to the Egyptian Hall last year with granny,” said Fanny; “I never like to look at people who are doing things by which if they make a mistake they may hurt themselves. I should not like to have seen Blondin, and the other people we read of in the newspapers, who run along tight ropes high up in the air.”

“I should think them very foolish for their pains, and wish them a better mode of gaining their livelihood,” observed Mr Maclean, “and I agree with Fanny. A sailor has to climb the rigging of his ship, but then he goes in the way of duty, and when people mount in balloons, they have generally a scientific object in view, or some reason to offer. But in my opinion, the rest of the world should keep their feet on the earth as long as they can.”

Even Norman, was interested in this conversation, and declared that he recollected the performances of the jugglers which his mamma spoke of. He then described several scenes which he had witnessed in India, in a very clear way.

“You have got a head on your shoulders, young gentleman,” observed the laird; “I only hope you have got your heart in its right place.”

Mrs Leslie sighed, for she was afraid that her little grandson had been so long allowed to have his own way, that though his heart might be in its right place, as the common expression is, it was sadly choked up with the bad seed of weeds, which were already beginning to sprout The next day was rainy, and neither Fanny nor Norman could go out. He behaved himself tolerably well in the drawing-room, but when they were at play together, he ordered her about in his usual dictatorial manner, and said several things which greatly tried her temper.

“Although he is so forward in many things, and talks so well, he is but a little boy after all,” she thought; “it is, however, easy to feel amiable and good when I am not opposed, but I ought to try and be so, notwithstanding all he says and does.”

The following day was bright and fine, and as Sandy could not take them, out in the boat, the laird asked Fanny and Norman whether they would like to make another excursion with the carriage. “Oh yes! I shall like it very much,” exclaimed Norman. “Please cut me another long stick, for Fanny broke the one you gave me the other day.”

Fanny did not say why she broke it, so the laird cut another long thin wand, and gave it to Norman.

“Ah, this will make my horse go on at a good quick pace,” he observed, flourishing it. “I won’t ask you to drag me up the hill, because you can’t,” he said to Fanny, “so if you will pull, I’ll push behind.”

“That is very right of you,” observed the laird, as his young friends set off on their excursion. “He is a fine little fellow, though too much addicted to boasting.”

Fanny, with Norman pushing behind, soon dragged the carriage up the hill. He then declared that he was tired, and getting in told her to move on.

As the ground was tolerably smooth, she was able to do so at a speed which satisfied the young gentleman.

“Capital,” he cried out, flourishing his stick, “my horse draws fast, go on, go on; now see if you can’t gallop.”

Fanny exerted herself to the utmost, and the air being pure and fresh she felt in good spirits.

The ground after some time became rather rougher, but Norman did not mind the bumping and thumping of the carriage, though it was much harder work for Fanny.

She at last began to go slower.

“Can’t you keep it up,” he cried out. “If you do not! Remember I have got my stick!”

“You must also remember how I treated you the last time,” said Fanny, “and if you use your stick as you did then, I will leave you in the carriage and run away.”

“You had better not,” said Norman. “You promised to take care of me. Mamma will be angry if you leave me on the moor all alone by myself.”

“Very well, do not beat me with your stick, and I will drag you on as fast as I can,” said Fanny.

Norman remembering that Fanny had broken his stick before, thought it would be wise not to tempt her to do so again, and therefore, though he continued to flourish it, and now and then to touch her frock, he did not venture to beat her.

Fanny went on contentedly, sometimes turning round to speak to him and sometimes stopping to rest. As the ground looked smoother to the right, Fanny turned off from the main track and went towards a clump of trees which she saw in the distance, knowing that it would serve as a guide to her and believing she could easily find her way back again.

On and on they went—Norman was delighted.

“This is great fun; I wonder where we shall get to at last,” he said, when Fanny again stopped to rest. “I think it will be soon time, however, to go back again,” she observed, “for though Mr Maclean told us we could come to no harm on the moor, we might lose our way if we went very far.”

Norman urged her to go on.

“I see a cottage a little way off between the trees, let us go as far as that, and then we can turn back,” he said.

Fanny wished to please him and though she already felt a little tired, she thought there would be no difficulty in reaching the cottage, and that she would like to talk to the people who lived in it. At length, however, the ground became rougher than ever, and they soon came to a shallow burn or stream which made its way from the higher part of the moor, and went winding along till it fell into the loch below.

“I am afraid we must turn back now at all events,” she said, “I shall never be able to drag the carriage over this rough ground and across the stream, so we must go back and give up visiting the cottage.”

“Oh no, no! go on,” cried Norman, “you can easily cross the water, it is scarcely above the soles of your shoes and see there are some big stones on which you can tread while you drag the carriage along on one side of them.”

“I think I could do that if you were not in it,” said Fanny, “I must not let you, however, run the risk of wetting your feet; mamma objects to that as she is afraid of your catching cold. If you will cling round my neck, I will carry you across in my arms, and then I will go back and get the carriage.”

“That will do very well,” said Norman. “Lift me up! Be quick about it, and we shall soon be across.”

Fanny dragging the carriage to the edge of the stream took up Norman, and though he was a heavy weight for her to carry, still she thought that she could take him across in safety. She had to tread very

carefully and slowly as the stream though shallow was wide and the stones uneven.

They had not gone many paces when Norman declared that she did not move fast enough.

“If I attempt to move faster I may let you fall,” she answered.

“You had better not do that or mamma will be angry with you, and I am sure if you chose you could go faster than you are doing. Come, move on, move on,” cried out the young tyrant, nourishing his stick, and ungrateful little boy that he was, he began to beat Fanny with it knowing that she dare not let him fall.

“Keep quiet, Norman,” she exclaimed, “it is very naughty of you! You will make me let you drop, though I should be very sorry to do so.”

Norman looked wickedly in her face, and only hit her harder.

As he was flourishing his stick, he knocked off her hat—she caught it, however, but in doing so she very nearly let him drop into the water. Still, though she begged and begged him to be quiet, he continued beating her, till after considerable exertions she reached dry ground in safety, and gladly put him down.

“Now, Norman,” she exclaimed, “what do you deserve?”

“I do not care what I deserve, but I know that you had better not slap my face, for mamma was angry with you when you did so before, and papa says he won’t allow anybody to beat me but himself, so just go and get the carriage as you said you would. You must not leave it there, somebody will run away with it, and I shall have to walk all the way home.”

“Very well, do you stay where you are, and I will go and bring it across,” said Fanny.

Norman agreed to stop, and Fanny went back carefully making her way over the stepping-stones. She found the task of dragging the carriage across without stepping into the water much greater than she had expected. Norman shouted to her to make haste.

“I am doing my best, and cannot go faster,” she answered.

“If you are not quicker I will stay here no longer,” answered Norman.

Without stopping to see whether she did move faster, off he ran.

At that moment poor Fanny’s foot slipped, and before she could regain her balance, down she fell into the stream. In doing so she hurt her arm, and wet her clothes almost all over. Norman, instead of coming to help her, laughed heartily at her misfortune, and scampered away crying out, “It served you light, you should have come faster when I told you.”

Poor Fanny felt very much inclined to cry with vexation, but knowing that that would do no good, she managed to scramble up again, and as her feet were wet, she stepped on through the water, and soon got the carriage to the other side of the stream. As Norman did not come back to her, she ran after him, dragging it on.

“Norman! Norman!” she cried out, but instead of coming back, he made his way towards the cottage.

She had nearly overtaken him just as they had got close to it, when the door opened, and an old man appeared, followed by a little fair-haired child, much younger than Norman.

“What is the matter?” asked the old man, eyeing the two children whose voices he had heard.

“My young brother ran away from me, and I tumbled down and wet my frock,” answered Fanny.

“Come in, then, and dry yourself,” said the old man.

“But I have wet my stockings and shoes,” said Fanny, “and they will take a long time to dry.”

“I shall be happy to have your company, my pretty lassie, as long as you like to stay,” said the old man. “I ken ye are staying with Glen Tulloch and ony of his friends are welcome here.”

“We are staying with Mr Maclean,” answered Fanny, “and were making an excursion over the moor, when we saw your cottage, and thought we should like to visit you.”

“We call Mr Maclean Glen Tulloch about here, as that’s the name of his house,” answered the old man. “Come in! come in! We will soon get your wet shoes and stockings off, though I am afraid you must sit without any while they are drying, for Robby there has never had a pair to his feet, and my old slippers are too large for you, I have a notion.”

Fanny observed that though the old man used a few Scotch expressions, he spoke English perfectly. His dress, too, was more like that of a sailor than the costume worn by the surrounding peasantry.

Norman, who had also come into the house, stood while they were speaking, eyeing the little boy, without saying anything. At last, looking up at the old man, he asked, “Is that your son?”

“No, young gentleman, he is my grandson,” was the answer, “he is the only one alive of all my family, and I am to him as father and mother, and nurse and playmate. Am I not, Robby?”

“Yes, grandfather,” answered the child, looking up affectionately at the old man, “I do not want any one to play with but you.”

“Would you not like a ride in our little carriage?” asked Fanny. “As soon as my shoes and stockings are dry I shall be happy to draw you.”

Robby nodded his head, and came near to Fanny.

“Would you not like to go out and play with the young gentleman?” asked the old man.

“I do not want him,” said Norman haughtily; “I am not accustomed to play with little brats of that sort.”

“Oh, Norman, how can you say that?” exclaimed Fanny, very much annoyed.

“Is he your brother, young lady?” asked the old man, looking with a pitying eye on Norman, but not at all angry.

“Yes,” said Fanny.

“I should not have thought it. There is a wide difference between you, I see.”

Fanny did not quite understand him.

Norman sat himself down on a stool in the corner of the room, and folded his arms in the fashion which he adopted when he wished to be dignified.

“You have come a long way from Glen Tulloch, young lady, and I must see you safe back, for your young brother I have a notion is not likely to be much help to you,” said the old man; “Robby, though he is very small, is accustomed to take care of the house, for I often have to leave him by himself.”

Fanny thanked him, for, recollecting the difficulties she encountered in coming, she felt somewhat anxious about the homeward journey, especially as Norman had behaved so ill, and very likely would continue in his present mood.

Her stockings were soon dry, but her boots took longer, and were somewhat stiff when she put them on. They were some which her mamma had brought her from Paris, and were not very well suited for walking in the Highlands.

“I am afraid I have nothing to offer you to eat suitable to your taste, young lady,” said the old man, “though you must be hungry after your long journey. Robby and I live on ‘brose’ to our breakfast, dinner, and supper, but will you just take a cup of milk? it was fresh this morning, and you may want it after your walk.”

Fanny gladly accepted the old man’s offer, and then looked at Norman.

The cup of milk greatly restored her. The old man, without saying a word, brought another and offered it to Norman.

The young gentleman took it without scarcely saying thank you. Again, the old man cast a look of compassion on him.

“Poor boy,” he said quietly, “he kens no better.”

Robby bad in the meantime run out, and was admiring the carriage by himself, thinking how much he should like to have it to drag about, and to bring the meal home in, instead of allowing his grandfather to carry it on his back.

Fanny was curious all the time, to learn something more about their host. He was evidently different to the other people around, and it seemed so strange that he and the little boy should be living together in that lone cottage on the wild moor. But she did not like to ask him questions, and as he did not offer to say anything more about himself than he had done, she restrained her curiosity intending to ask Mr Maclean more about him when she got home.

At last her clothes, and boots, and stockings being dry, she told the old man that she thought it was time to begin their homeward journey.

“As you wish, young lady,” he answered, and accompanied her and Norman out of the cottage. They found Robby at the door, looking at the carriage.

“Oh, you must get in,” said Fanny, “and I will draw you. My brother can walk very well some of the way.”

“Thank you, young lady,” said the old man; “if you will let Robby have a ride, I will draw the carriage, and let him come a little way, but he must go back, and look after the house, and it would be over far for him to return, if he came with us to Glen Tulloch.”

Norman looked very angry when Robby got into the carriage, and he himself had to walk, but he dared not complain, as there was something in the old man’s manner which made him stand in awe of him.

After they had gone a short distance, his grandfather told Robby to run back, and thanking Fanny, invited Norman to get in. The young gentleman did so, but he did not use his stick, as he had done when Fanny was dragging him.

They easily crossed the stream, and Fanny was surprised to find how soon they reached the top of the hill near Glen Tulloch.

“Now, young lady, you can easily take the carriage home, so I will wish you good-bye,” said the old man; “I hope you will come soon again—it does my heart good to see you.” Fanny promised, if she was allowed, soon again to pay him a visit, and wishing him good-bye, while he strolled back over the moor, she dragged the carriage down the hill. She met the laird setting out to look for her and Norman.

“Why, my bonny lassie, the ladies were afraid that you had wandered away over the moor and lost yourselves, you have been so long away, and they sent me off to try and find you.”

Fanny, without blaming Norman, told him of their adventure in the stream, and their meeting with the old man and his little grandson in the lone hut on the moor.

“Ah, that was old Alec Morrison,” observed the laird. “His is a sad history, I will tell it you by-and-by, but come along home and satisfy the ladies that you are not lost.”

“I am very glad you have come back at last, Fanny, we were getting anxious about you,” said Mrs Vallery. “I must not allow you to make excursions with Norman unless you can manage to come back with him in good time.”

“I will try and manage better another time, mamma,” she said, looking up after a minute’s silence. “I should very much like to pay another visit to the old man who was so kind to us, and to take something for his little grandson. Poor little fellow, I pity him so much having to live out on a wild moor, where there are no other children to play with him. His grandfather says he often leaves him alone in the cottage by himself.”

“I cannot promise positively to let you go,” said Mrs Vallery, “but I am sure that you will do your best to return in good time. I hope to be able to do so, and I should wish you to take something for the poor little child you speak of.”

“Thank you, mamma,” said Fanny, kissing Mrs Vallery affectionately, and forgetting all about the way Norman had treated her, she ran off to prepare for tea.

Chapter Six.

Learning to Fish.

The next morning while they were at breakfast, Fanny asked the laird to tell her something about Alec Morrison, the old man who had been so kind to her and her brother the previous day.

“I can only give you the outline of his history, but perhaps you may get him to narrate some of the many adventures he has gone through,” he answered.

“He was born not far from this, and his mother was a shepherd’s only daughter. His father who belonged also to this neighbourhood, when quite a young man had driven some cattle to a seaport town when he got pressed on board a man-of-war, and had sailed away to a foreign station, before he could let his friends know what had become of him, or take any steps to obtain his liberation. He had promised to marry Jennie Dow, whom he truly loved, and had hoped soon to save enough by his industry to set up house.

“Years and years passed by during which Jennie, who would not believe that he was dead, remained faithful to him. Her father was getting old, and her friends advised her to secure a home for herself. She replied that it would be time enough to do so when her father was dead, and that as long as he lived, she would stay and look after him.

“At length, on the evening of a summer’s day, a one-armed man in a sailor’s dress approached the door. He looked ill and hungry and tired. He stopped and asked for a cup of milk and a bit of bannock.

“‘I will pay for both, gladly,’ he said, ‘and be thankful besides, for without some food I feel scarcely able to get on even to the village where, if the friends I once had there are still alive, I am sure to get a night’s lodging and to learn about others, though may be they have forgotten me long ago.’

“‘Come in and sit down, old friend,’ said the shepherd, and Jennie placed a cup of milk and a bannock on the table.

“As she did so she cast an inquiring glance at the face of the stranger.

“‘Who are you, friend?’ asked Alec Dow. ‘I am as likely as any one to tell you of the people in these parts.’

“‘I am sure it must be,’ exclaimed Jennie, coming forward and placing her hand on the stranger’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you know me, Alec Morrison?’

“‘O Jennie, I thought you must be married long ago!’ exclaimed the sailor, jumping to his feet, ‘for I could not think that you would have remembered me. And can you care for me now—a battered old hulk as I am, with one arm and half-a-dozen bullets through me, besides I don’t know how many cutlass cuts and wounds from pikes?’

“‘I have never ceased to hope that you would return,’ was Jennie’s answer.

“As his daughter was the only being the old shepherd loved, he allowed her to marry the wounded sailor, who took up his abode with them, and served him faithfully till he died.

“Times went hard with Jennie and her husband, for Morrison’s constitution was shattered, and he could not work as hard as he wished. They had one son, Alec, who grew up a fine manly boy. The sailor was fond of spinning yarns, to which his son listened with rapt attention, and longed to meet with the same adventures as his father.

“The boy was little more than twelve years old when his sailor father died from the wounds he had received fighting his country’s battles.

“Though his thoughts often wandered away over the wide ocean which he had never yet seen, young Alec dutifully did his best to assist his mother, but she did not long survive her husband, and he was left an orphan.

“It would have been a hard matter for him living all alone to have made a livelihood, so he sold two of his heifers to obtain an outfit, and leaving the remainder as well as his cottage in charge of a relative of his father’s, he started off to the nearest seaport. He had no difficulty in finding a ship, for he was as likely a lad as a captain could wish to have on board.

“He sailed away to foreign lands, to the East and West Indies, Australia, and the wide Pacific, and though he may have visited English ports in the meantime, many a long year passed before he again saw the home of his youth.

“He at length came back with a young wife, and some money in his pocket. He had undoubtedly pictured in his imagination his cottage on the wild moor as an earthly paradise, and had described it as such to his wife. When she saw it, she expressed a very different opinion, and complained of the wretched hovel and savage region to which he had brought her. Poor Alec told her with all sincerity that he had believed it to be very different to what he owned it really was. He promised to take her back to the town where her father lived, although in order to support her he must again go to sea. His relation was an honest man and promised to take charge of his property as before, for Alec would not sell it, and leaving his young wife he once more went to sea.

“On his return from his first voyage, he found that she was dead, and had left behind her a daughter. He had still the little damsel to work for, and so the brave sailor placed her under charge of her grandmother, and again sailed away over the ocean.

“His thoughts often wandered back to his little daughter for whose benefit he was enduring hardships and dangers—twice he was wrecked, and many years passed by before he again got home, and found his daughter no longer a little child but a full-grown woman, and as ready I am afraid to spend the old sailor’s money as her mother had been. He had not, however, much to give her, and so in a short time off to sea he went again to get more. Next time he came back feeling that this voyage must be the last, for he was getting too old to endure the hardships of a life on the ocean, he found his daughter married to a sailor. Her husband had soon to go away to sea, and shortly afterwards news came that his fine ship had foundered, and all on board had perished. His poor young wife was heart-broken at the news, and not many weeks afterwards she was taken away, leaving her little boy who was born at the time to the charge of her father. Her mother’s family were all dead, and Alec Morrison found himself alone in the world with his little grandson Robby, and possessed of but scanty means of support. He had just money enough to bring him to his old home in the Highlands.

“His cousin though a poor man had done his best to keep the cottage in repair, and to preserve a few head of cattle which he handed over to him.

“The old sailor took up his abode with little Robby in the cottage, hoping with the small plot of ground surrounding it and his cattle to obtain the means of supporting himself and his grandson. He, often, I fear has a difficulty in doing so, but he never complains, and recollecting how he lived as a boy, often I believe fancies himself one again.

“He employs his spare time in taming birds and making cages for them, and in cutting models of vessels and boats, and manufacturing other articles; indeed, I believe he is never idle, and seems as contented and happy as if he had been prosperous all his life, and never met with a misfortune.

“There, I have told you all I know about old Alec and his ancestors and descendants—four generations if I reckon rightly. I daresay as I before said, if you ask him that he will be happy to narrate some of the many adventures he has met with during his voyages. I suspect that he often, while enjoying his pipe, tells them to Robby as he sits on his knee during the long winter evenings, though the little fellow must be puzzled to understand whereabouts they take place, unless he knows more about geography than probably is the case.”

“Thank you, Mr Maclean,” exclaimed Fanny, “I long to see old Alec again, after the account you have given us of him; I feel so sorry for him that he should have lost his father and mother, his wife and daughter, and all the money he has gained with so much toil and hardship, and now to be compelled to live alone with a little child to look after.”

“I am very sure he thinks the little child a great blessing, and would much rather have it than be without its companionship,” observed Mrs Leslie. “From the account you gave of the boy, he is very intelligent and obedient.”

“Oh yes!” answered Fanny, “he seems to understand what his grandfather wishes him to do, and does it immediately. When he was sent back, before going he sprang up into the old man’s arms, and gave him a kiss, and then ran off across the moor singing merrily.”

“I thought him a stupid little brat,” muttered Norman. “When I ran out while you were drying your clothes, Fanny, and told him to draw me about in the carriage, he said that he could not till he had asked his grandfather’s leave, as he had to run after one of the cows which was straying further than she ought.”

“That, instead of showing that he is stupid, proves that he is sensible and obedient, and I wish that another little boy I know of, was equally sensible and obedient,” observed Mrs Leslie, looking at Norman.

Norman tried to appear unconcerned, but he knew very well that his grandmamma alluded to him.

“I will make him do what I want, the next time I go there,” said Norman, but he took care that Mrs Leslie should not hear him.

The account which Fanny had heard, made her eager to set off that morning to visit the old sailor and his grandchild.

“May we have the carriage, Mr Maclean?” she asked. “I should so like to take little Robby some toys, or picture-books, or fruit, or something that he would like it would make him happy, and, I hope, please the old man.”

“We shall be very glad to give you some things to take,” said Mrs Maclean, “and though I do not think we have any toys, we may find some picture-books, at all events we can send some fruit and cakes which will be welcome.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” exclaimed Fanny, “if we go as soon as we have had our reading, we shall be back by luncheon-time, and now I think I know the way too well to run the risk of losing it.”

“You must take care not to tumble into the water again though,” said Mrs Vallery.

“I will take care not to do that, mamma; indeed, there is no risk of it, as old Alec showed us a safe way across the stream, and I can easily carry Norman over, so that there will be no chance either of his tumbling in, if he does not kick about while I have him in my arms.”

“Will you behave properly, and do as your sister tells you?” asked Mrs Vallery, turning to Norman.

“I always behave properly,” answered the young gentleman, looking indignant at the idea of his ever doing otherwise.

“Norman will be very good I am sure,” said Fanny, fearing that any difficulty might arise to prevent the intended excursion.

Just as they left the breakfast-room, however, Sandy Fraser came to the door.

“It’s a fine day for the young folks to take a row on the loch, and so I just came up to see if they were willing to go,” he said, as he pulled off his bonnet and wished the laird and ladies good morning.

“Oh, I shall like that much better than bumping over the moor in the little cart,” exclaimed Norman. “Fanny, I am going with Sandy Fraser on the loch, and you can pay your visit to old Alec and his stupid little grandson another day. It will be much better fun to row about on the water, and I will take a rod and line, and I am sure I shall catch I don’t know how many fish in a short time.”

These remarks were not heard by the rest of the party.

“Mamma, do let me go with Sandy Fraser,” exclaimed Norman, as Mrs Vallery appeared from the breakfast-room. “Fanny does not care about the trip over the moor I am sure, and we shall both like a row in the boat much better.”

“In that case, as Sandy has come up for you, I certainly would rather you accompanied him,” said Mrs Vallery, and going to the door without waiting to hear what Fanny had to say on the subject, she told Sandy that the children would soon be ready, if Mr Maclean approved of their going.

“That’s jolly,” cried Norman. “Mr Maclean can you lend me one of your rods? I want to catch some fish for you.”

“You would find it a hard matter even to hold one,” answered the laird, “but I will get a long thin stick cut, which you will be able to manage better than one of my rods. And let me advise you to sit quiet in the boat, and do what Sandy tells you, or you will get into mischief. If you promise me this you may go.”

“Oh yes, I promise to sit quiet,” answered Norman, “and you may be sure I will not get into mischief.”

Fanny though she liked going on the water, would much rather have paid a visit to old Alec, but she was always ready to give up her wishes to please others, and as Norman seemed so eager to take a row in the boat, she agreed to accompany him.

Sandy undertook to dig for some worms for bait, and to cut a rod. When he brought it back, Mr Maclean fastened a line with a float and a hook to it.

“There, young gentleman, you are fitted out as an angler,” he observed, as he gave it him. “Would you like a very large basket to bring back your fish in, or will a small one do?”

“I think I had better take a large one,” answered Norman. “Fanny can carry it down to the boat, and Sandy and I will bring it back slung on a thick stick when it’s full of fish.”

The laird laughed heartily. “You must not blame your fishing-rod if you are not successful, for you will catch quite as many with it, as you would were I to lend you one of mine,” he observed. “Now good-bye, and remember your promise to behave properly, and Sandy will do his part in looking after you.”

Fanny came down ready to set off.

While she walked on by the side of the old man, Norman frequently started ahead, flourishing his fishing-rod in the way he had seen Mr Maclean flourish his, and eager to begin drawing in the fish he expected to catch.

They soon reached the boat.

“Now, Miss Fanny, do you sit in the stern, and Master Norman, you keep by me in the middle of the boat, and take care that you do not hook your sister when you are whisking about your rod. We will gang to the end of the loch first, where I promised to take you, and then you can begin to fish on the way back.”

“But why should I not begin to fish at once?” exclaimed Norman. “That’s what I want to do, I do not care about the scenery.”

“But the young lady maybe does,” observed Sandy, “and I wish to do what she likes best.”

“But I want to fish, I say,” exclaimed Norman. “Why cannot I begin while the boat is going on? I wish you would put some bait on my hook, for I don’t like to touch the nasty worms—then you will see how soon I shall catch a fish.”

Sandy gave a broad grin, as he put on a worm, and then throwing the line into the water, let Norman hold his stick, while he again took the oars, and rowed slowly along towards the end of the loch.

Fanny sat in the stern of the boat, looking like a bright little fairy—admiring the scenery, even more than she did on her first excursion with the laird. She wished that Norman could admire it too, but he kept his eye on the float, thinking much more of the fish he expected to catch than of the mountains and rocks and tree-covered islets.

“I am so very much obliged to you for bringing us,” she said to Sandy. “This is indeed very beautiful.”

“Oh yes, its very braw,” answered Sandy,—but she could obtain no further expression of admiration from him, for having lived near the loch nearly all his life, he saw nothing very remarkable about it.

“I wonder whether there is any other place equal to this in all Scotland,” exclaimed Fanny, after they had gone a little further, and had come in sight of a deep valley opening up on one side, down which a sparkling stream rushed impetuously into the loch, while a waterfall came leaping down from rock to rock among the trees which clothed the valley’s side, now appearing, now concealed from sight by the overhanging foliage.

“Oh yes!” answered Sandy, “there are mony streams and lochs in the He’lands, but ye maun gang far to find one with fish bigger than swim in Loch Tulloch.”

“But I was speaking of the scenery,” said Fanny, “I dinna ken much about that,” said Sandy, not exactly understanding her.

Still Fanny continued to make her remarks, and to utter exclamations of delight, and Sandy was at all events satisfied that she was well pleased.

“I wish you would not talk so much, Fanny,” cried Norman. “I have been fishing away for I don’t know how long, and I have not caught anything yet, and I am sure it is all your fault. You frighten the fish away.”

“Unless the fish come to the top of the water, they are not likely to bite at your hook,” she replied, “for I have seen it floating there, ever since Sandy began to row.”

“Can’t you stop rowing then, and let me catch some fish,” exclaimed Norman, turning round with an aggrieved look to the old man. “It matters much more that I should catch fish, than that we should get to the end of the loch just to please Fanny.”

“I have no objection to stop rowing if you wish it, young gentleman,” said Sandy, “though I would rather hear you say that you wanted to please your sister more than yourself.”

Norman did not heed the rebuke, but seeing his hook sink down fully believed that he was going to catch a fish. He waited and waited with unusual patience for him, but still his float rested without moving on the calm waters.

“There are no fish here, young gentleman, that have a fancy for your hook. We will go on to the end of the loch as I promised your sister, and try what we can do when we come back. Just sit down and let your line hang out if you like. There will be no harm in doing that, though the fish may not be the worse for it.”

As Sandy began to move his oars, Norman was obliged to do as he was told. He looked very sulky and angry however, and would not even answer Fanny when she spoke to him.

At last they reached the end of the loch. Here the mountain appeared to be cloven in two—a narrow channel running at the bottom of the gorge and uniting Loch Tulloch to another larger loch beyond. Fanny was delighted, especially when Sandy poling the boat along proceeded onwards till the loch and bright sunshine being left behind, they found themselves in the gloom of the narrow gorge with lofty cliffs arching overhead, so that when they looked up, all they could see was a narrow strip of blue sky above them.

“We cannot go further,” said Sandy, “for some big rocks stop the passage, or I would take you a row through a larger loch than our ain. If you stand up you can just see its blue waters shining brightly at the head of the gorge.”

“I want to go back and begin fishing,” cried Norman, in an angry tone, “we are wasting our time here.”

“Yours is very valuable time, young gentleman, I doubt not,” remarked Sandy, standing up in the bow of the boat, which having turned round, he began to pole out by the way they had entered.

They were soon again in the loch, which looked brighter and more beautiful than ever after the gloom of the gorge.

They had not gone far when Norman again insisted on stopping.

“You promised that you would let me fish on our way back, and I am sure there must be numbers about here,” he said, throwing in his line.

“I should not wonder that there was no worm on your hook,” observed Sandy, after they had waited some time. “I thought so,” he continued, when Norman pulled up his line; “you canna expect ony fish to bite at a bare hook.”

“But put on another worm,” said Norman, who again tried for some time with equal want of success.

He was beginning to lose patience.

“Try deeper, young gentleman, fish swim further down than you think for,” observed Sandy.

Norman did not know what he meant, and so Sandy slipped the float considerably higher up the line. Still no fish were to be tempted by his worm.

“I wish you would make them bite,” Norman exclaimed petulantly. “I shall never catch anything with this stupid stick and string; Mr Maclean ought to have lent me one of his own rods, and then I should have caught some fish for him.”

Sandy who would never allow anything to be said against the laird in his presence, felt very angry with Norman at this remark.

“You are very ungrateful, young gentleman, to say that,” he remarked. “I have let you fish long enough already, though if you were to try till nightfall, you would go back with your basket empty, so just draw in your line and pit quiet, it’s time to be making our way back.”

Norman looked somewhat surprised at this address.

“It’s all the fault of the stupid stick,” he exclaimed, and standing up he threw it away from him into the loch, and began dancing about to give vent to his anger and disappointment.

The old man rowed on, taking no notice of his foolish conduct. Fanny, however, felt very much ashamed of him, and begged him to be quiet, but he only jumped about the more, declaring that he would complain to his mamma of the way Sandy had treated him.

After he had thus given vent to his feelings for some time, and had become more quiet, Sandy, who was really good-natured, and was sorry for his disappointment, promised that if he would be a good boy, he would take him out in the evening when the fish were more ready to bite, and show him how he himself caught them. This pacified him, and he sat quiet for some time. Still, as he thought how foolish he would look going back with his big basket and no fish in it, he began again to grow angry.

“It’s all Fanny’s fault,” he said to himself, “if she had not wanted to row about the lake, I should have had time to catch some fish.”

Not knowing what was passing in his mind, Fanny, whose eyes fell on the basket, laughingly said to Norman.

“Shall I carry it home again, or will you and Sandy carry it between you on a stick, as you proposed?”

“Why do you say that?” exclaimed Norman, jumping up, “you are sneering at me; you will go and tell them I daresay that I threw my rod into the water.”

“Indeed, I will not,” said Fanny, “I do not wish that any one should laugh at you.”

“You are always laughing at me yourself,” he answered, growing more angry. “But I will keep you in order, you are but a girl, and girls should always obey their brothers, that’s what I think.”

“You are but a little boy, though you think yourself a big one,” said Fanny, somewhat nettled at the way he spoke. “I wish to be kind to you, but I will not obey you, especially when you are angry, as you appear to be now, without any cause that I can see.”

Fanny was not aware how very angry Norman was.

Suddenly darting at her, he seized her hat and tore it off her head.

“Take care, young gentleman, what you are about,” cried Sandy, putting in his oars and about to take hold of Norman, who with Fanny’s hat in his hand, had jumped up on the seat.

“Your hat shall go after my fishing-rod,” he cried out, and was about to throw it as far from him as he could into the water, when, in making the attempt, he lost his balance and overboard he fell.

For a moment the water which got into his mouth as he struggled and splashed about, prevented him from uttering any sound. When he came to the surface he quickly found his voice.

“Help! help! I am drowning!” he shrieked out. “I am drowning! I am drowning! Oh save me, save me!”

Sandy quickly leaning over the side of the boat caught hold of him, and dragged him in, though he continued to shriek lustily, and struggle as if he was still in the water.

Poor Fanny gave a cry of alarm.

“He is all safe, young lady, and the cold bath will cool his anger, and won’t do him any harm,” observed Sandy. “But we will just pull off his wet clothes, and I will wrap him in my jacket.”

Norman who soon regained his senses, and became quieter when he found himself safe in the boat again objected to this, but Sandy insisted on doing what he proposed, and in spite of his struggles, took off his wet things, and made him put on his jacket, which he fastened round his waist with a handkerchief.

Fanny who had recovered from her flight, could scarcely help laughing at the funny figure he presented, dressed in the coat with the sleeves turned half way back, so that he might have his hands free.

“You will keep quiet now, young gentleman, I hope, or you will be tumbling overboard again,” said Sandy. “I don’t know what the laird will say to you, when he hears how it happened.”

Norman looked foolish, and made no reply.

Sandy had in the meantime picked up Fanny’s hat, and he now spread Norman’s clothes out on the seats that they might dry in the sun. Having done this, he pulled away as fast as he could towards the landing-place near the house.

As Norman’s clothes were not nearly dry by the time they reached the shore, he packed them away in the basket, which was thus made useful, though in a different way to what Norman expected. Having secured the boat, and helped Fanny out, Sandy took Norman up in his arms and marched away with him to the house.

The laird saw them coming, and of course inquired what had happened.

Fanny would as usual, have tried to save her brother from being blamed, but Sandy told the whole story.

“You brought it upon yourself, by disobeying orders, Norman,” observed Mr Maclean. “I will go in and tell your mamma and Mrs Leslie what has occurred, that they may not be alarmed, and the best thing you can do is to go to bed, and to stay there till your clothes are dried. You must not expect to go out in the boat again, as I see you cannot be trusted.”

“It was all Fanny’s fault, she had no business to make me angry,” answered Norman; “it is very hard that I should be punished because of her.”

The laird made no answer, but telling a maid-servant who appeared at the moment to carry Master Vallery upstairs and put him to bed, he entered the drawing-room where the ladies were sitting.

The laird took care not to alarm them when he described what had happened.

“Sandy did not tell you that I laughed at Norman, and that made him angry,” said Fanny.

“He had no business to be angry, young lady,” observed the laird. “Let me advise you, my dear Mrs Vallery, to allow him to remain in bed till he becomes more amiable. His tumble into the water may perhaps be an advantage to him, and teach him the consequences of giving way to his anger.”

Mrs Vallery, however, though assured that no real harm had happened to her boy, could not refrain from running upstairs to see him.

Norman did not appear at all sensible that he had brought the accident upon himself, and declared that it was all Fanny’s fault, and that he would not stop in bed.

Mrs Vallery at last yielded to his entreaties to be allowed to get up, and obtaining some fresh clothes, led him down to dinner, after he had promised that he would tell Mr Maclean he was sorry for having disobeyed his orders. Norman did so, though not with a very good grace, and he could not help feeling for the rest of the day that he was out of favour with the laird.

Mrs Leslie did not allude to the subject, for she hoped that his mamma had said all that was necessary, and Norman congratulated himself that he had got off more cheaply altogether than he had expected.

Poor Fanny was the chief sufferer, for she longed to say how delighted she was with the scenery, and yet she did not like, on account of her brother, to mention the subject. Norman, however, tried to look as unconcerned as possible, as if he had done nothing to be ashamed of.

Fanny, who wished very much to carry the presents to little Robby, and to see the old sailor again, begged the next morning that she might take Norman, as had been before arranged, with the little carriage.

“But I do not know if we can trust Norman,” observed the laird; “he may be scampering off by himself across the moor, and give you a great deal of trouble to catch him.”

“Oh! but I am sure Norman will behave well to-day,” pleaded Fanny. “Won’t you, Norman? You will promise Mr Maclean that you will do as he tells you.”

“Of course I will,” answered Norman. “Because I happen to do one day what you don’t like, you fancy that I must always do what you think wrong.”

“If you promise me that you will obey your sister, you shall have the carriage, as I hope that I may trust to your word.”

Norman promised that he would do whatever Fanny told him.

“Will you cut me a whip, Mr Maclean?” he added, “I cannot drive a carriage without one.”

“Pray let it be short then, the horse is not very far off, and a large one may tickle its shoulders and ears more than it likes,” said Fanny, looking archly at Norman, showing that though she had forgiven him, she had not forgotten the way he had treated her on their former excursion.

The laird cut a short thin wand which could not do much harm in the hands of Norman, and kindly saw them off as before on the road.

The day was fine and bright, and the pure Highland air raised Fanny’s spirits. She drew on the little carriage at a quick rate, singing merrily as she went. Norman felt unusually happy, he flourished his stick without attempting to beat Fanny, and shouted at the top of his voice. When the ground was rough, and the carriage bumped about, he held on to the sides with both his hands, but even that he thought very good fun. Quite regardless, however, of the exertion Fanny had to make on his account, he told her to go faster and faster.

“I like the bumping and tumbling. It puts me in mind of being at sea,—go on, go on,” he shouted.

Fanny proceeded for some distance, and at last felt so tired, that she was obliged to stop.

“I must rest for a few minutes, Norman,” she said, “for really it is very hard work going over this rough ground.”

“Oh, nonsense! you are lazy, you see how I like it, and so you ought to keep going on, I cannot give you many minutes to rest,” he replied.

“That’s a good joke,” said Fanny, “if you will drag the carriage and let me get into it, you will soon find that it is not so easy as you suppose to drag it over this ground.”

“You are heavier than I am, so that would not be fair, and besides, you promised to draw me, and you say you always do what you promise.”

“That is true,” said Fanny; “I am much heavier than you are, and I have really no wish that you should draw me, but pray have patience, and I will go on again.”

Norman got out of the carriage and ran about, he might just as well have gone on in front, and saved Fanny the trouble of dragging him so far; that, he did not think of.

At last Fanny proposed that he should get in again, and on they went. The ground was, however, still rougher than what they had passed over. Norman cried out to Fanny, who was going somewhat slower than at first, to move faster.

“I cannot, Norman; indeed I cannot,” she answered.

“I shall run the risk of tumbling down, if I do.”

“Then I’ll make you,” he shouted out.

As he could not reach her with his stick from where he sat, he jumped up to lean forward that he might do so. Just then the carriage gave a violent bump, and out he tumbled, falling on some hard stones. He shrieked out, fancying himself dreadfully hurt, and very angry at what had happened to him.

“You did it on purpose, I know you did,” he exclaimed, as Fanny came to pick him up.

Fanny was a little alarmed at first, but she soon found that a slight bruise or two was all the harm he had received, so, after stopping a short time till he had ceased crying and complaining, she put him into the carriage again, and went on more carefully than before. Norman did not again insist on her moving faster, as he was occupied in feeling his elbows and shoulders and wondering whether he was much bruised.

Soon after crossing the stream, they came in sight of Alec Morrison’s cottage. The ground was smooth near it, so Fanny was able to go on pretty fast, and Norman got into better humour, and shouted and sang as at first.

As they approached the cottage they saw Robby, who had heard their voices coming out to meet them. Poor little fellow, as he did not expect visitors, and the weather was hot, he had very few clothes on, but he did not think about that.

Fanny, stopping, made Norman get out of the carriage that she might take out the things which were placed under the seat.

“Here, Robby,” she said, as the little boy came up, “we have brought you some nice fruit, and some cakes, and some picture-books, which Mrs Maclean gave us for you.”

“Thank you, young lady, thank you,” exclaimed Robby, receiving them with delight, as Fanny took them out of the carriage, while Norman stood by, feeling somewhat jealous that the little beggar boy, as he chose to think Robby, should have so many things given him.

“Is your grandfather at home?” asked Fanny. “I have been longing to come and see him, and to thank him for helping us on our way back the other day.”

“No; I am keeping house alone, but grandfather will soon be back, so don’t go away, please, till he comes,” answered Robby, who was holding the things which Fanny had given him in his arms. “Won’t you come in, young lady, and rest?”

“No, thank you, I would rather stay outside in the shade till your grandfather comes back,” said Fanny, as she did not like to go into the old man’s cottage without an invitation from him. “Do you, Robby, go in with the things, and put them away,” she added, for she rather mistrusted Norman, who continued eyeing the little boy with no very kind looks.

Robby ran in with his treasures.

“Stupid little brat,” observed Norman, “I wonder Mrs Maclean sent him all those things, I should have thought a piece of bread and cheese was quite enough for him.”

“When we make presents we should try and give nice things, such as people who receive them will like,” said Fanny. “Old Alec could give his grandson bread and cheese, but he probably would be unable to obtain the sort of things we have brought. I wish when I make a present to give something that I myself like.”

“I do not understand anything about that,” answered Norman, turning away, and flourishing his stick as he walked up and down.

Old Alec soon appeared, with a basket containing food for himself and Robby, which he had gone to the village to purchase.

“It does my heart good to see you and your brother,” he exclaimed, as he came up.

“Grandfather!” cried Robby, “they have brought me all sorts of nice things—look here, look here!” and Robby led the old man into the cottage that he might exhibit the gifts he had received. “They would not

come in themselves, but said they would wait till you returned. I think the young gentleman would like some of the fruit, for he looked at it when his sister gave it to me. Can I run out and offer it to him? Perhaps, though, he will be offended, for he looks very proud.”

“Yes, Robby, go and give the young gentleman some fruit,” said old Alec, who was at the time turning his eyes towards several cages which hung against the wall, with birds in most of them.

He first looked at one, and then at another and another. At last he selected one neater and prettier than the rest, containing a linnet.

“This will be the thing for the little damsel,” he observed. “If it was made of gold it would not be too good for her.”

Fanny and Norman had still remained outside seated on a bench in the shade. They did not observe Robby, who came back with some of the fruit, intending to bring it to them, but feeling somewhat shy of presenting it, he placed it in the carriage, where he thought they would soon see it.

The old man, going to a window which overlooked the spot where they were seated, called to Fanny.

“Here, my dear young lady; an old man such as I am has but few things which you would care for, but I shall be greatly pleased if you will accept this little bird and its cage. Hang it up in your room where it can enjoy sunlight and air, and if you feed it and give it water regularly, it will sing sweetly to you in the morning and at all times of the day.”

“Oh, thank you! thank you! what a dear, sweet, little bird! There is nothing I shall like to have so much, and I hope mamma and granny will allow me to receive it.”

Fanny was so delighted with the gift, that she felt she could not find words enough to thank old Alec for it.

“The gift is a very poor one, but I shall be just as much pleased as you are, if you will receive it,” answered the old man, as he put the cage into Fanny’s hands.

The bird did not seem at all startled or afraid of her, but hopped about from perch to perch, and uttered a few gentle notes, as if it was much pleased at having her for its future mistress.

“But I have kept you waiting a long time outside,” said the old man. “You must come in for a few minutes to rest, before you begin your journey home; and I have got some sweet milk and a fresh bannock—a better one than I had to offer you the other day. You will go back all the merrier for a little food.”

Fanny thought it would please the old man to accept his invitation, and perhaps too, she might be able to get him to tell her and Norman some of the adventures which the laird said he had gone through, so calling to Norman, and holding the cage in her hands, she went into the house.

Chapter Seven.

The Sailor’s Story.