Hoodie nearly screamed with delight, but recollected herself just in time not to frighten the bird.
"Oh, Cousin Magdalen," she whispered in the most tremendous excitement, "Him is pouching, him's pouching on my finger. Oh the darling,—look, look, Maudie's godmother."
But before Maudie's godmother could get across the room to look, Mr. Birdie had hopped off its new perch, and the experiment had to be repeated.
"Come and pouch, birdie, dear birdie; do come and pouch on my finger," said Hoodie, beseechingly.
"Call it the way I taught you," whispered Magdalen.
Hoodie did so, and at the sound of her well-known call, the greenfinch cocked its head, looked round on all sides, appeared to consider, and at last condescended again to hop on to its little Mistress's finger.
"Isn't it sweet?" said Hoodie ecstatically, though scarcely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing it.
"If you take care never to startle it," said Magdalen, "it will get in the way of coming regularly whenever you call it. Never let it hear you speaking angrily or roughly, Hoodie. That would startle it more than anything."
"Would it?" said Hoodie, regarding her pet with affection not unmingled with respect. "Would it know I was naughty? Cousin Magdalen," she added, looking up into her friend's face with considerable awe in her bright green eyes; "Cousin Magdalen, do you think p'raps my bird's a fairy, and that God sent it to teach me to be good?"
Fortunately by this time Magdalen's intercourse with Hoodie had taught her the necessity of great control of herself. Whatever Hoodie said or did, she must not be laughed at—not even smiled at, if in the smile there lurked the slightest shadow of ridicule. Once let Hoodie imagine she was being made fun of and all hope of leading her and making her love and trust you was over.