From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Today, when I was out with Alma, I saw a little dead sparrow on the sidewalk. I picked it up and carried it till we passed a house that had a lawn in front of it and then I laid it on the grass, so no one would step on it. I said, “Oh! Why couldn’t it have been Tante Esther or Uncle Felix instead of this sweet little sparrow.” Alma was so upset with me and said that it was wicked of me to wish such an awful thing.