Hoodie Part 22

Just at that moment Hoodie caught her eye. She drew herself straight up on her chair with a little air of inviting approval.

"Am I not _vezzy_ good?" Magdalen could almost fancy she heard her saying, and in spite of herself, she could not help smiling back at the funny little girl.

Luncheon over, the children were dismissed for their walk, for the rain was now quite over and the afternoon promised to be fine and sunny. As they were leaving the room Hoodie threw her arms round Magdalen's neck and drew her head down that she might whisper into her ear.

"Will the fairy come, does you think?" she asked.

"I hope so," said Magdalen, in the same tone; "but, Hoodie, you must promise me one thing. You must not touch the little bird while I am away. I have put it on my table in the basket and it will be quite safe there. You may go in to look at it with Maudie, but you must not touch it."

"Won't it be hungry?" inquired Hoodie.

"Oh no, I'll give it a little more before I go out, and then it will be all right till I come in. You promise, Hoodie?"

Hoodie nodded her head.

"P'omise," she repeated.

Magdalen looked after her anxiously.

"Poor little Hoodie," she said to herself, as she watched the neat little figure tripping out of the room. Just then the children's mother came over to her.

"Magdalen, my dear child," she said, "you must not worry yourself about these children. You have been looking quite careworn all the morning, and I can't have it."

"But I wanted to help you with them, so that you might have a little rest and get quite strong again, dear Beatrice," said Magdalen. "You have never been really well since your illness last winter, and Mamma and I thought I should be able to help you--and--and--" the tears came into Cousin Magdalen's pretty eyes.

"Well, dear, and who could have done more to help me than you, since you have been here? I shall miss you terribly when you go, especially about Hoodie," and in spite of her wish to cheer Magdalen, Hoodie's mother gave a little sigh.

"It was about Hoodie I was thinking," said Magdalen. "I was so anxious to do her good."

"And don't you think you have?"

Magdalen hesitated.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I have made an impression on her, and then it seems all to have gone off again. She is such a queer mixture--in some ways so old for her age, and in some ways such a baby."

"Yes," said Mrs. Caryll. "It is so very difficult to know how to treat her. But she is very fond of you, Magdalen, and I am so glad to see it.

We really used to think it wasn't in her to be fond of any one."

"But I am sure it is in her," said Magdalen, "only--I hardly can say what I mean--if she could be made to believe that other people love _her_, that she could be of use to others--I think that would take away the sort of defiance and hardness one sees in her sometimes. It is so unlike a child. She is always imagining people don't care for her, and then she takes actual pleasure in being as naughty as she can be."

"Yes," said Hoodie's mother; "there really are days when she goes out of her way to be naughty, one might say,--when it is enough for Martin to tell her to do or not to do _anything_, for her to wish to do or not to do the opposite. Still she _has_ been better lately, Magdalen, and it is all thanks to you."

"Poor little Hoodie!" said her cousin, "I wonder why it should be so very difficult for her to be good. But we must get ready now, must we not, Beatrice? And _whatever_ I do I must not forget the cage, or any good I can ever hope to do Hoodie will be at an end!"

"But she is only to have it if she really has been good?" said Mrs.

Caryll, who was sometimes afraid that Magdalen was rather inclined to spoil Hoodie.

"Only if she has been good, you may be sure," said Magdalen. "And there is one thing about Hoodie--she does keep a promise."

"You think she is honest and truthful?" said Mrs. Caryll.

"By nature I am sure she is. But her brain is so full of fancies that she hardly understands herself, that I can quite see how sometimes it must seem as if she were not straightforward. Not that the fancies would do her any harm if they were all happy and pretty ones--but I do wish she could get rid of the idea that no one cares for her. It is _that_ that sours her and spoils her, poor little girl."

Hoodie's mother looked affectionately at Magdalen.

"Where have you learnt to be so wise about children, Magda?" she said.

"You seem to understand them as if you had lived among them all your life."

"It is only because I love them so much," said Magdalen, simply. "And often somehow----" she hesitated.

"Often what?" said her cousin, smiling.

"I was going to say--but I stopped because I thought perhaps you would not like it as we were talking of your children who have everything to make them happy--" said Magdalen. "I was going to say that sometimes, often, I am so very, very sorry for children. Even their naughtinesses and sillinesses make me sorry for them. They are so strange to it all--and it is so difficult to learn wisdom."

Hoodie's mother smiled again.

"You are such a venerable owl yourself, you funny child," she said.

"However, I do understand you, and I agree with you. I do feel very sorry for poor Hoodie sometimes, even though she really goes out of her way to make herself unhappy. But what _is_ one to do?"

"Yes, that is the puzzle," said Magdalen. "In the first place any way, I am going to buy her a cage for her bird--it will be good for her to take regular care of the bird. I am so glad you said she might keep it."

"I only hope we shall be able to rear it," said Mrs. Caryll. "Hoodie would indeed think all the powers were against her if it died. That is the worst of pets."

"I think this bird will get on, if it is taken care of and not over-fed," said Magdalen. "It is a greenfinch, you know, and greenfinches take kindly to domestic life. Besides, it is not so very young a bird, and it looks quite bright and happy now that it has got over its fright," and so saying she followed Hoodie's mother out of the room to prepare for their drive.

It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon when they returned. Cousin Magdalen ran joyously up-stairs to the nursery carrying a very funnily-shaped parcel in her hand. The children were all at tea. She heard their voices and the clatter and tinkle that always accompanies a nursery meal as she came along the pa.s.sage, and she opened the door so softly that for a moment or two she stood watching the little party before any of them noticed her.

How nice and pretty and happy they looked! Martin, a perfect picture of a kind, tidy nurse, sat pouring out the tea, looking for once quite easy-minded and at rest; Maudie, a little model of neatness as usual, her small sweet face wearing an expression of the utmost gravity as she carefully spread some honey on Hec's bread and b.u.t.ter; Duke, frowning with eagerness to understand some mysterious communication which his neighbour Hoodie was making to him in a low voice, her eyes bright with excitement, her cheeks rosy, and her pretty fat shoulders "shruggled"

up, as she bent to whisper to her little brother.

"_What_ do you say, Hoodie? I don't under'tand. How could it be all of gold?" were the first words that met Magdalen's ears.

"_Hush_, Duke," said Hoodie, placing her sticky little hand on his mouth, "you're _not_ to tell. I didn't say it would be all gold. I said p'raps the little points at the top would be goldy--like the shiny top of the point on the church. But you're too little to know what I mean.

You must wait till--Oh!" with a scream of delight, "_there's_ Maudie's G.o.dmother! Oh, Maudie's G.o.dmother, Maudie's G.o.dmother, _have_ you got it?"

She was off her seat and in Magdalen's arms in an instant--hugging, jumping, kissing, dancing with eagerness. It was all Magdalen could do not at once to hold out to her the parcel, but her promise to Hoodie's mother must not be broken.

"Yes," she said, "I have got it. But first tell me, Hoodie dear--have you been really a good little girl all the afternoon? Has she, Martin?"

"Oh, trually I've been good--vezzy good--haven't I, Martin?" said Hoodie.

"Yes, Miss. I must really say she has been very good. I don't remember ever having a more peacefuller afternoon," said Martin with great satisfaction.

"I am so glad," said Magdalen. "And you didn't touch the bird, Hoodie?"

"No, oh no, I didn't touch it one bit," said Hoodie earnestly. "I went and lookened at it, but I didn't touch it. Martin will tell you."

"No, Miss, she was quite good. She just stood and peeped at it, but she didn't touch it, I'm sure, for I went with her to your room and stayed there a few minutes while she looked at the bird."