"Knowed, in course I knowed," she said.
Only Hec did not seem as much interested and delighted as the others. He just glanced at the cage and then subsided again to his bread and honey.
"What's the matter with Hec?" said Cousin Magdalen. "He doesn't look as bright as usual, does he, Martin?"
"He's been very quiet all the afternoon," said Martin, "but I don't think he can be ill. He's eaten a good tea, hasn't he, Miss Maudie?"
"Very," said Maudie. "Three big slices first—only with butter, you know, and then six with honey. We always have to eat three plain first, on honey days," she added by way of explanation to her cousin.
"Nine slices," said Magdalen, opening her eyes. "Martin, isn't that enough to make him ill?"
"Bless you, no, Miss," said Martin, laughing. "As long as it's bread and butter, there's not much fear."
"Or bread and honey," corrected Hoodie. "One day Duke and Hec and me—Maudie wasn't there—one day Duke and Hec and me eatened firty-two slices—Martin counted. It was when we was at the seaside."
"My dear Hoodie!" exclaimed Magdalen, and the astonishment on her face made them all laugh.
The consumption of bread and butter and honey seemed however over for the present, so Magdalen led the way to her own room, followed by Hoodie carrying the precious cage which she would entrust to no other hands, Maudie, the twins, and Martin bringing up the rear.