it, as it lay asleep in the wood-shed. Ellen's grief was very great, but
all she could do was to bury it in the garden near the river-side, and
plant lilac bushes round its little green-sodded grave."

"I am so sorry, nurse, that this good little girl lost her pretty pet."

"Some time after the death of 'Fan,' Ellen had another fawn given to her.
She called this one Jack,--it was older, larger, and stronger, but was
more mischievous and frolicsome than her first pet. It would lie in front
of the fire on the hearth, like a dog, and rub its soft velvet nose
against the hand that patted it very affectionately, but gave a good deal
of trouble in the house: it would eat the carrots, potatoes, and cabbages,
while the cook was preparing them for dinner; and when the housemaid had
laid the cloth for dinner, Jack would go round the table and eat up the
bread she had laid to each plate, to the great delight of the children,
who thought it good fun to see him do so.

"Ellen put a red leather collar about Jack's neck, and some months after
this he swam across the rapid river, and went off to the wild woods, and
was shot by some hunters, a great many miles away from his old home, being
known by his fine red collar. After the sad end of her two favourites,
Ellen would have no more fawns brought in for her to tame."

Lady Mary was much interested in the account of the little girl and her
pets. "Is this all you know about fawns, nurse?"

"I once went to call on a clergyman's wife who lived in a small log-house
near a new village. The youngest child, a fat baby of two years old, was
lying on the rug before a large log-fire, fast asleep; its little head was
pillowed on the back of a tame half-grown fawn that lay stretched on its