Oscar felt rather frightened. Was it possible that he had killed them? What would his master say? How was he to tell him it was quite a mistake? That he had only been in fun? He must put the gulls out of sight.
He dragged them to one side of the cottage where the minister used to try every year to grow a few cherished plants, and there in the loose earth he dug a grave for the birds.
Then he went back to his old place, and waited for his master’s return.
When the minister came back, for the first time in his life, Oscar longed to be able to speak and tell him all that had happened. How could he without speech explain that the death of the birds was an accident—an unfortunate accident?
He felt that without an explanation it was no use unearthing the white forms in the border.
‘Sir, sir!’ cried Jean, putting her head in at the door. ‘Here’s Widow McInnes come to see you. She’s in sore trouble.’
The minister rose and went to the door.
‘Stay here, Oscar,’ he said, for Widow McInnes was not fond of Oscar.
In a few minutes the minister came back.
He patted Oscar’s soft head.