"But if you hadn't opened the door, I couldn't have goned," was Hoodie's calm reply, with mischievous triumph in her bright eyes.
Martin received the misfortune very philosophically—perhaps she was not sorry, at the bottom of her heart, that some one else should have some experience of the trials she had with Hoodie.
"Not that she means always to be naughty, of course, Miss," she explained to Magdalen. "But she's that heedless and tiresome—oh dear! Though one could manage that if it wasn't for her queer temper—queer indeed! queer's no word for it."
"Martin, Martin," came in Hoodie's shrill voice from the inner room, where she was sitting, minus the greater part of her attire, while Martin "aired" the clean clothes, unexpectedly required, at the nursery fire. "Martin, you must go down to the kitchen at oncest, and get some bread and milk for my bird. I'm going to keep it alvays, Martin, and you mustn't let Duke and Hec touch it never."
"Well, well, Missie, we'll see," said Martin; "you must get your Mamma's leave first, you know."
"By the bye, I'd better go and speak to her about it," said Magdalen. "Shall I tell the other children to come up-stairs, Martin? And my poor letter," she said, smiling rather dolefully, as she went out of the nursery, "I'll never get it written before luncheon, for I must superintend the feeding of the bird, otherwise the children will certainly kill it with kindness."
Magdalen had a good deal of experience in rearing little birds and little lambs, and all such small unfortunates. She had always lived in the country, and having neither brothers nor sisters her tender heart had given its affections to the dumb creatures about her. It was fortunate for the foundling bird that it fell into her hands, as had it been left to Hoodie's affectionate cares its history would certainly have been quickly told. She was very indignant with Magdalen for the very tiny portions of bread and milk, which was all she would allow it to have, and asked her indignantly if she meant to "'tarve" the poor little pet.
"Hush, Hoodie," said her mother, who had come to see the little bird. "If you speak so to Cousin Magdalen I certainly will not let you keep the bird. You should thank her very much for being so kind to you and giving up all her morning to you."
Hoodie did not condescend to take any notice of her mother's reproof.
"Hoodie," said Mrs. Caryll, "do you not hear what I say?"