“But what is it—what can it be that you have to tell me, George?” said Fanny; “I’m out of breath to know the secret.”
“Be patient, and you shall know it in the right time,” replied her brother.
“Oh! how can you be so cruel as not to tell me now?” said Fanny. “How long have you known the secret without letting me know it, too? I shan’t be able to go much farther, if you keep it from me. My heart is all in a flutter.”
“I don’t want to tell you, with your heart all in a flutter. You should be calm, so as to hear what I say, and to enjoy the sight I have to show you,” said the young philosopher.
“I am calm, now, and I have been patient,” said Fanny. “Come, dear Georgie, do tell me.”
Georgie kept silence, and proceeded a few paces, when he paused; and lifting a long, leafy branch, disclosed to the eye of the delighted girl a beautiful nest, full of young birds, so closely snuggled in their little round cell, that they looked as if, from below the neck, they grew together.
In momentary surprise at the sudden flood of light that poured upon them, the nestlings put up their heads, as if to ask what was meant by it, and who it was that had unroofed them. They had never received anything but what came from care and kindness; they were innocent, and therefore they knew no fear. Putting forth their open beaks at the strange visitants, they cried, “Petweet-tweet, petweet-tweet,” as if their mother had hung over them with their morning gift of food.
Fanny was for a moment as much surprised as they. Then, in an ecstacy of delight, she sprang forward, and would have dislodged the nest from its place, to take the birds, and examine them with her fingers, as well as her scrutinizing eye, had not her brother checked her motion, and stood between her and his casket of living jewels.
“Oh! I want to touch them!” said she. “But how long have you known of this nest?”
“Ever since it was begun to be built,” said George.