"Can there be a nest in the eaves?" she said to herself, for the flutter was evidently that of a bird; and as she was watching, she saw it fly out—fly down rather from the projecting window-roof, and—to her amazement, after seeming for an instant or two to hesitate, it summoned up courage and flew a little way into the room—too high up for her to reach however, and not far enough into the room for her to venture to shut the window. She stood breathless, for as it at last settled for a moment on the curtain-rod, she saw what at first she had scarcely ventured to believe, that it was Hoodie's bird.
It stayed a moment on the rod, then it flew off again—made a turn round the room—"oh," thought Magdalen, "if it would but settle somewhere further from the window, so that I could shut it in"—But no, off it flew again—out into the open air, and Magdalen's heart sank. Patience! Another moment and it was back again, with designs on its cage apparently, but it hesitated half way. Now was the critical moment. Magdalen hesitated. Should she risk it? She stretched out her hand towards the bird and softly and tremulously whistled to it in Hoodie's well-known call. The wavering balance of birdie's intentions was turned—it cocked its head on one side, and with a pretty chirp flew towards Magdalen and perched on her finger! Slowly and cautiously, whistling softly all the time, she slipped her hand into the cage, and quickly withdrawing it the instant birdie hopped off he found himself caught.
"Slowly and cautiously, whistling softly all the time"
But he seemed quite content, and in two moments was pecking at his seed as if nothing had happened.