The Bluebird and the Sparrow Read Online Free PDF

turned to wave as Mrs. Berdette stood and watched the pair of them go. They didn’t see the tears wiped heedlessly on the hem of her apron.
    “You must listen carefully and obey,” Berta was informing her younger sister. “You mustn’t talk and you can’t … ”
    The voice faded away into the distance. Glenna was still vigorously nodding her head to all Berta’s instructions.
    Glenna also turned out to be a very good student. She was quick to pick up the words in the books and before a year had passed was reading her own stories in the simple primers.
    This was difficult for Berta. She missed the story hours. She missed Glenna, pushed up against her, her eyes growing larger as the action of the story unfolded.
    One Thursday afternoon the girls came hurrying in from their classes without even passing into the kitchen to greet their mother and enjoy their cookies and milk. Over her shoulder Glenna told her mother she had a new primer and couldn’t wait to read the stories. The two deposited their coats and lunch boxes on the corner table, and Berta took a seat on the settee while Glenna scrambled up beside her.
    Berta held out her hand for the new book, but Glenna protectively moved it out of her reach.
    “I’ll read it,” she said firmly.
    “No, Glenna—let me read,” argued Berta.
    “But I want to read it myself,” replied Glenna, her voice low.
    “But I know more words than you,” continued Berta.
    “Teacher said I should practice,” Glenna said with a shake of her curls. “An’ I’m supposed to listen and obey.”
    Those had been Berta’s instructions.
    “You—you can practice—after,” said Berta, not giving in.
    “But I want to know what the stories say.”
    “I will read them to you. Then you’ll know.”
    Glenna looked disappointed. “But I want to learn the surprise.”
    “What surprise?”
    “The surprise at the end of the story.”
    Berta reached for the book. “You will learn the surprise when I read it. I’m bigger. I’m supposed to help you.”
    “I don’t need your help anymore,” Glenna asserted loudly, her book still held out of Berta’s reach.
    Berta made a dive for the book and grabbed it from Glenna’s clutching hand. There was the sickening sound of paper tearing just as Mrs. Berdette entered the room from the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.
    “Girls!” she exclaimed, her eyes taking in the scene.
    Glenna burst into tears at the sight of the damage to her new book.
    Berta’s eyes were filled with angry defiance. “She wouldn’t let me read,” she defended. “She hid her book—way over.”
    “I wanted to read it,” cried Glenna. “I wanted to read it to myself.”
    “And look what has happened. A damaged book—that your father will need to pay for,” scolded Mrs. Berdette, pointing to the torn page.
    It was a sobering thought.
    “And your teacher will be most disappointed that you have treated a book so,” their mother went on. “And I am disappointed as well. I thought you both had learned how to care for books.”
    Glenna’s blue eyes filled with tears of shame. Her book was torn; her mother was unhappy. Her father would be unhappy, too, and her teacher would most surely scold.
    “It’s Glenna’s fault,” said an angry and defiant Berta.
    “Mama—I’m sorry,” sobbed Glenna. “I’m sorry. I’ll let Berta read. I promise,” and she scooted down from the settee and ran to her mother, burying her face against the calico apron.
    “Just a minute,” said Mrs. Berdette, one hand resting on the young girl’s shoulder. “I’m not sure Glenna should take the blame here.”
    Her eyes held Berta’s. Berta lifted her chin, her dark eyes flashing.
    “It was her fault,” she argued.
    Mrs. Berdette sat in a chair and moved the sobbing Glenna up against her knee.
    “Now hush,” she told the young child. “Hush—while we try to sort this out.”
    Glenna stood up, the sobs turning to noisy gulps as she wiped at tears with the