your bird I did not know I was doing wrong, just because I was
always doing wrong, and the wrong had soaked all through me.'

'What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come
to the point, you know,' said the old lady, and her voice was
gentler even than before.

'I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better.
And now I see that I have been letting things go as they would for
a long time. Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't
come into my head I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and
never looked out for anything to come. I haven't been attending to
my mother - or my father either. And now I think of it, I know I
have often seen them looking troubled, and I have never asked them
what was the matter. And now I see, too, that I did not ask
because I suspected it had something to do with me and my
behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I know I have
been grumbling at my work, and doing a hundred other things that
are wrong.'

'You have got it, Curdie,' said the old lady, in a voice that
sounded almost as if she had been crying. 'When people don't care
to be better they must be doing everything wrong. I am so glad you
shot my bird!'

'Ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie. 'How can you be?'

'Because it has brought you to see what sort you were when you did
it, and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you
don't mind. Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better.