tongue, you little monkey," cried Norman, giving him a kick,
"that's just what I don't choose you should talk about."

"Norman you should not treat Robby so," said Fanny becoming indignant.
"I am sorry to say, Robby, that the little birdie is dead. We did not
behave as kindly to it as you would have done."

"Oh dear! oh dear! how did it die?" asked Robby.

"Hold your tongue, I say," cried Norman giving him another kick, which
made Robby cry.

This attracted the attention of Mrs Vallery who was seated in front
with her husband.

"What is the matter, children?" she asked, looking round.

"Nothing at all, mamma, only the stupid child chooses to cry," answered
Norman. "Keep quiet you tiresome little brat."

"Oh, mamma, will you take Norman in front with you? He has hurt Robby,"
said Fanny.

"I won't go," answered Norman, "I like to stay where I am. You may take
the brat with you if you like, mamma."

"There is scarcely room for any one," said Mrs Vallery. "And I must
beg you children to be quiet. Fanny, you can keep them from
quarrelling, I should hope."

Poor Fanny would willingly have done so, for Norman was doing his best
to spoil the pleasure of her drive. She took Robby to sit beside her,
where Norman could not reach him without kicking her. He having vented
his anger, now remained quiet, only occasionally giving an angry look at
the poor little orphan.

Soon having crossed the level heath, they entered a narrow glen between
the mountains, which rose up on either side of them, here and there
covered with wood; in other places the cliffs were almost perpendicular,
while a stream rushed foaming and sparkling over its rocky sides close
to the road. As they advanced, the scenery became more wild and
picturesque. Fanny admired it much, for she had never been in so
romantic a country. Now they went up the steep side of a hill, from the
top of which could be seen range beyond range of mountains, with deep
valleys, patches of forest, wild rocks, and a narrow sheet of water
which shone in the bright sunlight, while here and there could be
distinguished a thin silvery line descending from a mountain height, and
winding along at the bottom of a valley.

"We are not far from Glen Corpach," shouted the laird, "and I see some
of our friends are making their way towards it."

He pointed to some patches which Fanny thought looked like ants, with a
black beetle in front of them, winding down the mountain.