Fanny found Norman just going into his room to get ready for tea. “I am so sorry I laughed when you told us about the fish just now, Norman,” she said putting her hand on his arm; “I did not intend to laugh at you, but only at what you said.”
“I do not see why you should have laughed at all, I don’t like it, and won’t stand it, and you had better not do it again,” he answered, tearing himself away from her, and running into his room. She attempted to follow, but he slammed the door in her face, and shot the bolt, so that she could not enter.
“My dear brother, do listen to me, I am very very sorry to have offended you, and will not, if I can help it, laugh at you again,” she said, much grieved at his petulant behaviour.
Norman made no answer, but she heard him stamping about in his room and knocking over several things.
Finding all her efforts vain, she got ready for tea, and went to the dining-room, where that meal was spread in Highland fashion.
Norman who was hungry, at last made his appearance. He went to his seat without speaking or even looking at her. Mr Maclean who knew nothing of what had passed, talked to him in his usual kind way, and promised to take him out the next morning that he might commence his lessons in fly-fishing. Norman being thus treated, was perfectly satisfied with himself, and considered that Fanny alone was to blame for the ill-feeling in which he allowed himself to indulge towards her. She made several attempts to get him to speak, but to no purpose.
How sad it was that Norman should have been able to place his head on his pillow and not experience any feeling of compunction at doing so without being reconciled to his gentle sister.
Next morning he was up betimes, and went off soon after breakfast with Mr Maclean to the loch.
Fanny amused herself for some time with her little bird. It now knew her so well that when she opened the door of its cage, it would fly out as she called it, and come and perch on her finger, and when she put some crumbs on the table, it would hop forward, turning its head about, and pick them up one after the other, watching lest any stranger should approach. If any one entered the room it immediately came close up to Fanny, or perched on her hand, and seemed to feel that it was perfectly safe while under her protection. It would not, however, venture out if any one else was in the room. Fanny kept its cage hung up on a peg near the window of her bedroom. She brought it down that morning to show to Mrs Leslie.
“I must give it a name, dear granny,” she said; “can you help me? Do you recollect the pretty story you used to read to me when I was a very little girl, about the three robins—Dickey, and Flapsey, and Pecksy. I have been thinking of calling it by one of those names, but I could not make up my mind.”