“He is dead!” said Charlie, and both boys burst into tears. They could have borne Aunt Betsey’s anger, they could have borne punishment, or anything that might have come because of this, without being deeply moved, but the sight of that little dead bird was heart-rending.
“Do you suppose that God sees it?” said Charlie.
“Yes,” replied Fred, “for it was only last night, Hesper told me that not a sparrow fell to the ground without His notice.” And as this thought came home to them with full force, they were wholly overcome, and burst into loud lamentations.
“Mercy me!” said Aunt Betsey, as she opened the door, “what is the matter?” and then she stood still in astonishment. “How did this happen?” she asked.
Fred tried to summon moral courage enough to tell the whole truth, but his heart failed him.
“O dear!” he sobbed, “the cage fell down, and one of the birds is dead.”
“How sorry I am;” said Aunt Betsey. And she looked more grieved than angry. “I am sure I thought the hook was strong enough.” She took the cage, and was about placing it on the table, when she observed the seed and the water scattered all over the cloth.
“Why! how is this?” she asked, and then she minded Fred’s jacket was in the same plight.
“I don’t know how to understand it,” she said—“did the cage fall upon you?”
“No,” stammered Fred, “I fell on to the cage.”