“Seeing is believing,” repeated Miss Roy.
“I didn’t do it. Oh, you will drive me wild! I did not think that you would turn against me.”
“No one attends to the bird except yourself. Who in this house would be so wicked and malicious as to take away the seed and water? No, my dear Nancy; you forgot. It was unlike you, and I am disappointed in you. But I have decided not to tell Uncle Peter; I will give you another chance. Had I been in charge of the orderly-book I should have been obliged to enter this circumstance in the book; but as I am not I do not hold myself responsible. Go away now, dear. Don’t keep me. Try and be more careful another time.”
Nancy stood perfectly still. Her face, which had been red with anger, was now white. She turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
“It is all most unaccountable,” thought the governess to herself. “But to suppose for a single instant that any one could have removed the seed and water is not to be thought of. Yes, I am sorry for Nancy. She forgot the bird: such things have happened even with tender-hearted and considerate children. She forgot the bird, and has not the courage to own to her fault. Poor, poor child; I fear that remark in the orderly-book is correct.”
Meanwhile Nancy went up to her room. Never before had such mad passion seized her. She felt like a wounded creature in a trap. But of one thing she was resolved.
“My dicky-bird, my darling, shall not run such a risk again,” she thought. “Oh, of course it must be Augusta! No one else could do such a fiendish thing. But my darling shall not suffer. I know who will care for him.”
She put on her hat, took the cage down from the hook, threw a handkerchief over it, and went out.
About a mile away there lived a woman with a sick child. Nancy and the two Richmond girls had visited this woman once or twice. And Nancy had spoken to little Grace of her bird. Grace had been deeply interested.
“Oh, if only my poor little Grace could have a bird all to herself!” said her mother. “But there! I cannot afford it. I offered to buy her a linnet—one can get linnets quite cheap—but she would not have it. ‘No, mother,’ she said, ‘I would not take the liberty from an English bird. It is a canary I want. I’d like to have one more than anything else in the world.’”