So Magdalen's face remained quite grave as she replied to Hoodie's question,
"I think that everything nice and pretty that comes to us is sent by God, dear. And He means them all to teach us to be good. But I don't think you need fancy your little bird is a fairy."
"It's so clever," said Hoodie. "Fancy him knowing when I call. Do you think some day it'll learn to speak, Cousin Magdalen?"
Cousin Magdalen shook her head.
"I'm afraid not. It isn't the kind of bird that ever learns to speak," she replied, as gravely as before. "But I shouldn't wonder if it learns to know you very well—to come in a moment when it hears you call, and to show you that it is pleased to see you."
"Oh how lovely that'll be," said Hoodie, dancing about with delight. "Fancy it coming on my finger whenever I say 'Birdie dear, come and pouch.' I'll never let it hear me speak c'oss, Cousin Magdalen. Whenever I feel it coming I'll go out of the room and shut the door tight so it sha'n't hear me."
"Whenever you feel what coming?" asked Magdalen.
"It," repeated Hoodie, "c'ossness, you know. It must come sometimes—all chindrel is c'oss sometimes," she added complacently.
"Well, but suppose some children were to make up their minds to be cross no times," said Magdalen with a smile. "Wouldn't that be a good thing? Suppose a little girl I know, not very far from here, was to set the example."
Hoodie laughed.