Alas! all his good resolutions had been scattered to the winds. He now, however, went quietly enough with his mamma. When he got to his room, he gave her as much trouble as he could, and declared that he was too sleepy to say his prayers, though just before he had been asserting that he was not at all sleepy, and did not wish to go to bed. She, in vain, begged him to do so, and had at last, as she often had before done, to kneel down by his bedside and pray for him. He turned his face away from her, when she bade him good-night, and only mumbled a reply. There are, I am afraid, many more little boys like Norman, who do not regret how much pain they give those who love them best.
Poor Fanny was especially grieved. She had flattered herself that happy days were coming, when Norman would be gentle and obliging, and all she could wish, and now he appeared to be as naughty as ever.
I do not know whether the little birds again visited him in his dreams, and croaked and scolded him, and told him that he was a very, very naughty boy, but I am very certain that his dreams could not have been pleasant.
Fanny had another cause for regret, when she looked up at the spot where the cage with her little favourite in it used to hang, and no cage was there. Had Norman continued to show that he was sorry, and was really going to behave better, she would not she thought have felt her loss so much. As soon as she was up in the morning, she went in as usual to help her brother, who though he declared that he could dress himself, never managed to do so properly. He appeared to be in a better temper than on the previous evening.
“Good morning, Fanny,” he said, jumping up. “I won’t keep you long, for I want to get downstairs as soon as possible to see the things papa has brought us. I wonder what they are.”
“I am sure they are what we shall like,” said Fanny, “though I did not know that he had brought anything.”
“He has brought me something at all events,” said Norman, “for he told me so, and I hope that he will bring them, when he comes downstairs, or perhaps he would give them to me if I went to his room.”
“Pray, don’t do that,” said Fanny. “It will appear as if you were more eager to learn what he has brought than to see him, and he may not have time before breakfast to unpack his large portmanteau.”
Norman felt vexed that his sister should give him this advice, and somewhat unwillingly accompanied her downstairs.
Mrs Maclean, who was in the breakfast-room, received Fanny in her usually affectionate way.