Hoodie did not resist. She allowed her mother to take her hand and lead her away. As the door closed after them Maudie gave a sigh of relief.
"Let's go on with our reading as long as we can," she said. "Hoodie will be worse than ever after she comes back. As soon as ever mother has gone down again and she thinks she won't hear, she'll begin again. Won't she, Martin?"
"She often is like that," said Martin, "but perhaps she'll be better to-day. Go on reading, Miss Maudie, and take no notice of her when she comes in."
In about ten minutes the door opened and Hoodie appeared. She marched in with a half-defiant air—evidently "humble-pie" had at present no attraction for her. No one took any notice of her. This did not suit Hoodie. She dragged her little chair across the room and placed it beside her sister's.
"Doin' to be dood," she announced.
"I'm glad to hear it, Miss Hoodie," said Martin.
"Doin' to be dood. Maudie, litsen," said Hoodie impatiently, giving Magdalen's chair a jerk, "doin' to be dood."
"Very well, Hoodie, only please don't pull my chair," said Maudie, in some fear and trembling.
"You're not to read, you're to litsen when I speak," said Hoodie, "and I will pull your chair, if I like. I love mother, don't love you, Maudie, ugly 'sing that you is."
Maudie did not answer. She glanced up at Martin for advice.