"One day he talked to me, but it was not about the weather. Things had
gone wrong with me all the morning. I had spoken disrespectfully to my
grandmother, and had been so cross and impatient with baby Walter that
mother had taken him from me, though she could ill spare the time to
tend him. Then I ran through the garden to a little patch of woods
behind the house, and sat on an old log, in a very bad humor.
"Presently, high above my head in the branches of the walnut-tree, the
weather-bird began his monotonous strain. I paid no attention to him at
first, I was so taken up with my own disagreeable thoughts, till it came
to me all at once that he was not telling me it was a pleasant day,
though the sun was shining gloriously and a lovely breeze rustled the
green leaves. What was it the little bird was saying over and over
again, as plain as plain could be? 'NAUGHTY GIRL! NAUGHTY GIRL! NAUGHTY
GIRL! Y-E-S.'
"I rubbed my eyes and pinched my arm, to make sure I was awake; for I
thought I must have dreamed it. But no, there it was again, sweet, sad,
reproachful: 'NAUGHTY GIRL! NAUGHTY GIRL! NAUGHTY GIRL! Y-E-S,'
"I jumped up in a rage, and called it a horrid thing; and when it
wouldn't stop, but kept on reproaching me with my evil behavior, I could
bear it no longer, but put my fingers in my ears and ran back to the
house and up to my own room, where I cried with anger and shame.
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