The lady gave a scream of horror. "Where is he? Show me quick, Susy."
"It makes me ache, in here," sobbed the child, putting her hand to her breast. "I can't bear to see him hurt them."
Mrs. Lander did not speak, but her face was very pale, and she hurried on to the place where Eddy was still at his cruel sport.
The boy was so intent upon his wicked employment that he did not hear their steps; but threw his hatchet to the ground quickly when he heard his mother's voice calling, "Stop, Eddy! Stop at once!"
Oh, what a scene that was! On the top of an old wall lay a piece of board covered with pieces of the fishes. Their pretty, shining scales glistening in the sun. One, the last of the number, lay with a piece chopped off its tail, writhing in its agony.
Tears filled the lady's eyes, as she turned with a shudder to the boy, and exclaimed,—
"O Eddy! O my son! what will become of you? what a cruel, wicked boy you are!"
"They're mine," cried the child, his face growing very red. "A boy at the brook gave them to me." He glanced angrily at his cousin, because she had, as he thought, called his mother.
Mrs. Lander shook her head. "I couldn't have believed you would do so," she said, in a sorrowful tone. "See," she added, picking up the hatchet, "this is covered with the blood of the poor creatures. You have made such a wicked use of your uncle's present, that I shall take it away from you."
"It isn't yours! you've no right to! Uncle said it was to be my own!" shouted the boy, now in a fury of passion. He even tried to snatch it from her hands, and when he found he could not, he threw himself on the ground, kicking and screaming with all his might.