"Yes, dear, I think it would," said the governess gently. "But what are you going to do with the thrush, Frank?"
"Oh! I suppose I must bury it," answered Frank; "I wish I had a pretty box to put it in."
"I have one, I have one," cried Bunny, jumping quickly to her feet, and running off towards the house, mopping up her tears as she went along. "I've got a dear little one that will just do, Frank."
"We must have a solemn funeral," said young Collins. "Who will write an epitaph to put at the head of his grave?"
"An epee—what, Frank?" asked Mervyn, with a puzzled look on his little face. "What do you mean?"
"An epitaph, you little simple Indian; do you not know what that means?"
"No," said Mervyn gravely, "I don't think people in India ever have such things."
"Don't they indeed! Bunny, what is an epitaph?" asked Frank, laughing merrily as he took a pretty bon-bon box from the little girl's hand.
"I don't know, I'm sure," said Bunny; "I never heard of such a thing. What is it yourself?"
"Well, you are a clever pair! Why, it's something written on a tombstone," cried Frank, and, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket, he scribbled a few words, and then proceeded to read them aloud. "Listen and learn what an epitaph is, my friends:—