“That will do very well,” said Norman. “Lift me up! Be quick about it, and we shall soon be across.”
Fanny dragging the carriage to the edge of the stream took up Norman, and though he was a heavy weight for her to carry, still she thought that she could take him across in safety. She had to tread very
carefully and slowly as the stream though shallow was wide and the stones uneven.
They had not gone many paces when Norman declared that she did not move fast enough.
“If I attempt to move faster I may let you fall,” she answered.
“You had better not do that or mamma will be angry with you, and I am sure if you chose you could go faster than you are doing. Come, move on, move on,” cried out the young tyrant, nourishing his stick, and ungrateful little boy that he was, he began to beat Fanny with it knowing that she dare not let him fall.
“Keep quiet, Norman,” she exclaimed, “it is very naughty of you! You will make me let you drop, though I should be very sorry to do so.”
Norman looked wickedly in her face, and only hit her harder.
As he was flourishing his stick, he knocked off her hat—she caught it, however, but in doing so she very nearly let him drop into the water. Still, though she begged and begged him to be quiet, he continued beating her, till after considerable exertions she reached dry ground in safety, and gladly put him down.