"Oh no, Miss Hoodie, my dear, I'm sure she didn't say that. She only asked you if you were quite sure you didn't. And who could have done it, I'm sure I can't think," said Martin, herself by no means satisfied that Hoodie's indignation was not a sign of her knowing herself to blame. "No one was in the room but you and me this afternoon, for none of the servants ever go near it till dressing time. Besides, they wouldn't go touching the bird. If it had been one of the little boys now. It's just what they might have done, reaching up to get it. But they weren't there at all."
"I don't care," reiterated Hoodie. "I didn't do it, but Maudie's godmother doesn't believe me. I don't care. But I won't have the cage." And in spite of all Martin could say, the child resolutely refused to leave the nursery.
Hoodie sat there alone, nursing her wrath and bitter feelings.
"I don't care," she kept repeating to herself. "Nobody likes me. I'm alvays naughty. What's the good of being good? I did so want to touch the bird when Martin went out of the room and left me alone, but I didn't, 'cos I'd p'omised. I might as well, 'cos Maudie's godmother doesn't believe me. It's very unkind of God to make it seem that I'm alvays naughty. It's not my fault. I don't care."
In Magdalen's room Martin was relating Hoodie's indignation.
"Oh, how sorry I am for saying that," said Magdalen. "It will just make her lose her trust in me. And I do believe her. I'm sure she didn't touch it. Don't you think so, Martin?"
Martin hesitated.
"Yes, Miss, I do think I believe her. Only didn't you notice how red she got when I said I wasn't with her all the time in your room this afternoon?"
"Yes," said Magdalen; "but I thought it was just that she felt so eager for me to know she had kept her promise. I don't think she touched it, Martin. I really don't. But I am afraid it will be difficult to make her believe I don't."
Just then a sudden sound of weeping made them all start, thinking for a moment that it must be Hoodie herself, who had run back from the nursery. But no—it was not Hoodie—it was Hec. The little fellow had crept under the table unobserved, and there had been listening to the conversation.