"Why can't she love her sister and brothers more?" she thought to herself. "I do not know what she would do now if anything again happened to the bird. I wonder if it would have been better if it had not come back. But no, I must not think that. All love must do good to a nature like Hoodie's, and her love for the bird may teach her other things. And oh, I should have been sorry to leave her while she was as unhappy as she was yesterday."
Then she came forward into the room, and when Hoodie saw her, there was a fresh cry of delight, and Magdalen had to tell her over and over again exactly how it had all happened; how it was that she was up so early, how birdie flew in and then out again, and how Magdalen feared that after all she might not be able to catch him, and how delighted she was when she felt sure she had got him safe.
"I was so glad to think how pleased you would be, Hoodie, dear!" she said.
"Thank you, Cousin Magdalen, you are vezzy kind," said Hoodie. "And I think God is vezzy kind too, for you know I said my prayers to Him last night to send birdie back again, so He must have told him to come. P'raps He sent a' angel to show birdie the way. I'm going to be vezzy good now, Cousin Magdalen, awful good, alvays, 'cos God was kind and sent birdie back. Won't God be glad?"
"Yes, dear, God is always glad when His little children are good. He likes them to be happy, and being good is the only way," said Magdalen.
"But won't He be dedfully glad for me to be kite good?" said Hoodie, seemingly not quite satisfied with her cousin's tone. "I wouldn't have tried so much if He hadn't sent birdie back, but now I'm going to try awful hard."
"But, Hoodie dear, even if God hadn't sent birdie back it would have been right to try as hard as ever you could," said Magdalen. "That's what I wish you could understand—even when God doesn't do what we ask Him we should try to please Him. For He loves us just the same—better than if He did what we ask, for He knows that sometimes what we ask wouldn't be good for us. I don't think you understand that, Hoodie dear. You think when your mother, or Martin perhaps, doesn't do all at once what you ask, that it is because they don't love you. You mustn't feel that way, dear, either about your friends here, or about God, your best friend of all."
Hoodie looked up, rather puzzled. Magdalen feared she had not understood what she said, and almost regretted having said it. And afterwards she wondered what had put it into her mind to try to explain to the little girl what puzzles and bewilders far wiser people, but by the time that "afterwards" came she no longer regretted having said what she had.
"I do think God loves me now," said Hoodie, sturdily, "'cos He's sent birdie back, and so I'm going to try to be good. But if I was God I'd alvays do what ev'ybody asked me, and I'd make it be good for them, and then ev'ybody would be so pleased, they'd always try to be good."
"I'm afraid not, Hoodie," said Magdalen with a slight smile. "I'm afraid if everybody always got what they want there would soon be very little goodness left anywhere."