"Oh yes, dears, very nice. But for all that it cured me of setting down baskets or anything like that when I had to take them anywhere. For you see it isn't every dog that would have had the sense of that one."
"And then he might have been a woof," suggested Hoodie. "The picture says a woof."
"Yes," said Maudie. "But this isn't the picture story, Hoodie. This was a real story of Martin herself, you know, for there aren't wolfs now."
"Not none?" said Hoodie.
"No, of course not."
Hoodie nodded her head, but made no further remark, and the nursery party congratulated themselves on the astonishing success of their endeavours to "put her crying fit out of her head."
This happy state of things lasted nearly all day. Hoodie was really most agreeable. She was rather more silent than usual, but, for her, surprisingly amiable.
Martin was delighted.
"Take my word for it, Miss Maudie," she said, "the only way with a child like her, is to take no notice and talk of something else."
"But we can't always do that way, Martin,"—Maudie was not of a sanguine temperament,—"sometimes, you know, she's naughty about things that you must go on talking to her about, till you get her to do them."