Norman Vallery Part 23

The bird was duly admired.

"Where is Norman?" asked Mrs Vallery.

"He ran into the house before me, I suppose he will soon be here."

Norman, however, did not come immediately, and at last Mrs Vallery went to look for him. She found him in his room rubbing away at his clothes.

"What has happened?" she asked; "why did you not come into the drawing-room at once?"

"I tumbled down in the mud and dirtied my clothes, so I wanted to clean them," answered Norman, and he said no more.

"That was awkward of you, but as they appear dry, you might have come in to see us all as soon as you returned," observed Mrs Vallery; "how did you manage to tumble down?"

"That stupid little brat Robby ran after me, and f.a.n.n.y would not come home. I can take very good care of myself, and so I don't want her to go out with me any more."

"I am afraid, Norman, you were not behaving well. I must learn from f.a.n.n.y what occurred," said Mrs Vallery. "I will a.s.sist you to change your clothes; these are certainly not fit to appear in at dinner."

Norman was very taciturn while his mamma was dressing him. As soon as she had done so she led him downstairs.

To his grandmother's questions he made no reply, and she consequently guessed that something had gone wrong. When f.a.n.n.y who had gone upstairs to dress, returned, Mrs Vallery inquired how Norman had managed to tumble into the mud.

"I wish to have the whole account from you, f.a.n.n.y, for his is not very clear," she observed. "He says that little Robby ran after him."

"Oh, how can you say that?" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y indignantly. "If it had not been for little Robby you know perfectly well that you might have lost your life;" and then without hesitation she gave the exact account of what had occurred.

"I am deeply grieved to find that instead of expressing your grat.i.tude to the little fellow, you should have wished to throw blame upon him,"

said Mrs Leslie, looking very grave as she spoke; "you were wrong in running away without your sister, but that fault might easily have been overlooked. I feel ashamed of acknowledging you as my grandson in the presence of my old friend here, and I grieve that they should find you capable of acting so base a part."

Norman could say nothing in his defence. He did not like being scolded by his grandmamma as he called it, but still he did not see his behaviour in its proper light, and instead of being sorry, he felt only vexed and angry and more than ever disposed to vent his ill-feeling on f.a.n.n.y.

His poor mamma was very unhappy, but she did not know what to say to him more than what his grandmamma had already said.

"I will talk to him in his room by-and-by, and point out to him the sin he has committed," she observed to Mrs Leslie.

The laird soon after came in, and the party went to dinner. He saw that something was wrong, but refrained from asking questions.

Norman ate his dinner in silence, and no one felt disposed to speak to him. He did not like this, and it made him feel more and more angry with f.a.n.n.y.

"Why should she say all that about me! why could not she let my story be believed! It could not have done that little brat any harm, if they had thought I tumbled down because he ran after me. He did, he did run after me, for I saw him. But I am determined that f.a.n.n.y shall not tell tales about me; I will punish her in a way she does not think of. She will grow very fond of that stupid little bird, but I will take care that she does not keep it very long. Perhaps some day the door of the cage will be open, and it will fly away. Ah! ah! Miss f.a.n.n.y, I am not going to let you tell tales of me."

Such were the thoughts which pa.s.sed through the mind of the little boy.

He had never been taught to restrain his evil feelings, and to seek for help from G.o.d's Holy Spirit to put them away immediately they came to him. Instead of doing that, he allowed them to remain and to grow and grow, and a bad thought, however small it may appear at first, must always grow till it becomes so great, that it makes a slave of the person who allows it to spring up within him.

Poor f.a.n.n.y had no idea of the harm which her brother was meditating against her and her bird, nor indeed had any one else at table. After dinner, the whole party went into the grounds. The kind-hearted laird was sorry to see Norman looking so dull.

"He is a manly little fellow, and ought to have boy companions. I will do what I can to amuse him," he thought. "Come along, Norman, with me, and we will try to find something to do." The laird kindly took him by the hand, and led him along.

"When I am old enough, papa promises to give me a gun, that I may go out and shoot tigers," said Norman. "Have you got any tigers here?"

"No, I am glad to say we have not. We should find them very troublesome, as they would commit great havoc among our sheep and cattle, and perhaps carry off the little boys and girls on their way to school as well as grown-up people."

"We have plenty of tigers in India, and I think it a much finer country than England on that account," remarked Norman in a contemptuous tone.

Mr Maclean laughed and replied--

"There were once wolves in the wilder parts of the country, but they have long since been killed, because they did so much mischief. The only large animals which now remain in a wild state, are deer, and they belong to the proprietors of the land, so that those alone to whom they give permission may shoot them."

"But have you not got some deer?" asked Norman, "I should so like to see you shoot one."

"My days for deer-stalking are over," answered the laird. "There are a few on my estate, but I do not allow them to be shot. They are beautiful creatures, and I like to see them bounding across the hills and moors, and enjoying the existence G.o.d has given them."

"I should like to shoot one though," said Norman, giving his head a shake in an independent way. "Won't you lend me your gun."

"A gun would tumble you over oftener than you could bring down a deer, laddie," answered the laird, laughing heartily. "As you are so determined to be a sportsman you shall come with me on the loch this evening, and we will try and catch some fish, only you must promise me not to fall overboard again."

"I will take good care not to do that; I did not like it the last time,"

said Norman.

"I suspect that what the boy wants is careful training to turn out better than he promises to do at present," thought the laird. "He has been allowed to do what he chooses, and has not been shown by the argument of the rod, as Solomon advises, when he has chosen to do wrong.

I wish his father would let me take him in hand for a few months, I think something might be made of him."

"Come along, laddie," said the honest laird aloud, "we will get my fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, but we will not carry a big basket this time. I will show you how to string up your fish to carry them home without one."

The laird was quickly equipped, for his fis.h.i.+ng-tackle was always kept in readiness for use, and Norman being allowed the honour of carrying his landing-net, they took their way down to the loch. The laird told Norman to jump into the boat, and lifting the grapnel which held her to the bank, he stepped in after him, then taking the oars he pulled away up the loch.

"What! can you row?" exclaimed Norman. "I thought only sailors and boatmen could do that."

"You have a good many things to learn, laddie. I could pull an oar when I was no bigger than you are. It is what every English boy ought to be able to do, and I will teach you if you try to behave yourself properly."

"I should like to learn; can you teach me now?" asked Norman.

"I cannot teach you and fish at the same time," said the laird.

"Besides these oars are too heavy for you, but I will get a small one made that you can handle. Remember, however, that I make the promise only on condition that you are a good boy, and try to please not only me but everybody else."

"I will try," said Norman, but still he did not forget his evil intentions against f.a.n.n.y and her bird.

People often promise that they will be good, but they must have an honest desire to be so, and must seek for help from whence alone they can obtain it, in order to enable them to keep their promise. Norman had never even tried to be good, but had always followed his own inclinations, regardless of the pain or annoyance he inflicted on even those who were most kind to him. He could appear very amiable when he was pleased, and had everything his own way, but that is not sufficient.

A person should be amiable when opposed, and even when hardly treated should return good for evil.

He sat in the boat talking away very pleasantly to Mr Maclean, who began to think that he was a much nicer boy than he had supposed, and felt very glad that he had brought him out with him that evening.

The laird rowed on for some distance, till he came to the spot where he proposed fis.h.i.+ng. He then put his rod together, and told Norman to watch what he did, that he might imitate him as soon as he had a rod of his own.

"I must get a nice light one which you can handle properly," observed the laird kindly.

"Oh, but I think I could hold yours, it does not seem very heavy," said Norman.

"You might hold it upright, but you could not move it about as I do, and certainly you could not throw a fly with it," answered Mr Maclean.