'For two reasons: first, to see how long it will live--and then,
to see what it will taste like.'

'But don't you know it is extremely wicked to do such things?
Remember, the birds can feel as well as you; and think, how would
you like it yourself?'

'Oh, that's nothing! I'm not a bird, and I can't feel what I do to
them.'

'But you will have to feel it some time, Tom: you have heard where
wicked people go to when they die; and if you don't leave off
torturing innocent birds, remember, you will have to go there, and
suffer just what you have made them suffer.'

'Oh, pooh! I shan't. Papa knows how I treat them, and he never
blames me for it: he says it is just what HE used to do when HE
was a boy. Last summer, he gave me a nest full of young sparrows,
and he saw me pulling off their legs and wings, and heads, and
never said anything; except that they were nasty things, and I must
not let them soil my trousers: end Uncle Robson was there too, and
he laughed, and said I was a fine boy.'

'But what would your mamma say?'

'Oh, she doesn't care! she says it's a pity to kill the pretty
singing birds, but the naughty sparrows, and mice, and rats, I may
do what I like with. So now, Miss Grey, you see it is NOT wicked.'