to understand what I might have done; however, I said no more, and
stood silent, while he comforted me with the promise of a new flower
for my garden, called "hen and chickens," which he said I was to take
care of instead of the little blackbirds.

When he was gone I went back to the holly-bush, and stood gazing at
the nest, and nursing angry thoughts in my heart. "What a _preach_," I
thought, "about nothing! as if there could be any conceit and
presumption in taking care of three poor little birds! The curate must
forget that I was growing into a big girl; and as to not knowing how
to feed them, I knew as well as he did that birds lived upon worms,
and liked bread-crumbs." And so _thinking wrong_ ended (as it almost
always does) in _doing wrong_: and I took the three little blackbirds
out of the nest, popped them into my pocket-handkerchief, and ran
home. And I took some trouble to keep them out of everyone's
sight--even out of my mother's; for I did not want to hear any more
"grown-up" opinions on the matter.

I filled a basket with cotton wool, and put the birds inside, and took
them into a little room downstairs, where they would be warm. Before I
went to bed I put two or three worms, and a large supply of soaked
bread-crumbs, in the nest, close to their little beaks. "What can they
want more?" thought I in my folly; but conscience is apt to be
restless when one is young, and I could not feel quite comfortable in
bed, though I got to sleep at last, trying to fancy myself Goody
Twoshoes, with three sleek full-fledged blackbirds on my shoulders.

In the morning, as soon as I could slip away, I went to my pets. Any
one may guess what I found; but I believe no one can understand the
shock of agony and remorse that I felt. There lay the worms that I had