Hoodie Part 9

"She _says_ she's in a bad humour," repeated Magdalen, astonished.

"Oh yes, she just calls out to Miss Meade, 'oh, one's come, one's come,'

that means a bad humour's come, and once she says that, _nothing's_ any good. She sometimes puts her fingers in her ears if Miss Meade tries to speak to her. So mamma settled it was no good doing anything; it did so interrumpt _my_ lessons, and I'm getting big, you know. But please, Cousin Magdalen, will you come with us just the very minute after breakfast, and then there'll be time?"

"Very well," said Magdalen. "I'll be ready 'timmediate,' I promise you."

Whether or no Miss King knew much about children, she knew enough to understand that to them a promise, even about a small matter, is a very sacred thing. And she took care not to forfeit their confidence. No sooner did the four little figures appear on the lawn just outside the dining-room window, than she started up from the table where, though breakfast was finished, she was loitering a little in pleasant talk with her friends.

"Why, where are you off to, in such a hurry?" said Mrs. Caryll.

"I beg your pardon," said Magdalen, laughing. "I promised the children to go with them before their governess comes, to--"

"Excuse my interrupting you," said Mr. Caryll, "but I would just like to see if I can't finish the sentence for you. I am certain they are going to take you to see the bantams, now aren't they? They have all four, Hoodie especially, got bantams on the brain."

He opened the gla.s.s-door as he spoke, and Miss King pa.s.sed through.

Three of the children ran forward joyously to meet her, the fourth followed more slowly, and from her way of moving, Cousin Magdalen strongly suspected that either "one" had just come, or that "one" had not yet gone. There was a decidedly black-doggy look about her fat little shoulders.

But Miss King took no notice, and slowly, very slowly, the fourth little figure drew nearer to the others. Still she did not speak--the boys chattered merrily, and Maudie joined in, being sensible enough to understand that just now, at any rate, the taking no notice plan was the most likely to bring Hoodie round again.

And by the time they reached "the c.o.c.ky field," it was crowned with success. Hoodie forgot all her troubles in the pleasure of showing off her pets, and greatly distinguished herself by the cleverness with which she caught them and brought them up, one after the other, to be admired.

"Isn't they _sweet_?" she said, ecstatically; "when I'm big, I'll have a house with lots and lots of c.o.c.ks and hens."

"I thought you were going to live in a cottage, like Red Riding Hood's grandmother, when you're big?" said Maudie, thoughtlessly.

Hoodie turned upon her with a frown, and Cousin Magdalen felt really grieved to see how in one instant her pretty, round, rosy face lost its childlike expression, and grew hard and fierce.

"You's not to laugh at me," she said. "I won't have n.o.body laugh at me."

Maudie looked up penitently in Cousin Magdalen's face.

"I'm so sorry. I _didn't_ mean to set her off. Truly I didn't," she whispered.

Cousin Magdalen felt that she knew and understood too little to attempt the interference she would have liked to use. More than interference indeed. For the moment she felt so provoked with Hoodie's naughty, silly bad temper, that she really felt ready to give her a severe scolding.

She was too wise to do so, however, and certainly it would have done no good. More for Maudie's sake than for Hoodie's, she tried to turn the conversation in a pleasant way.

"It is very queer," she said, "that people almost never do when they are grown up what they plan as children. When I was little I always planned that I should do nothing but travel, and after all, very few people have travelled less than I. I have been very stay-at-home."

"I like travelling a little way," said Maudie; "but when it is a long way, it is so tiring."

"Wouldn't you like the magic carpet that flew with you wherever you wished to be?" said Cousin Magdalen.

"Was it in a fairy story?" said Maudie; and though Hoodie said nothing, she came slowly nearer and stood staring up in Miss King's face with her queer baby blue eyes that could look so sweet, and could, alas! look so cross and angry.

"Yes," said Cousin Magdalen, in reply to Maudie's question, "in a very old fairy story. Are you fond of fairy stories?"

"_I_ is," said a voice that was certainly not Maudie's.

Magdalen turned to her quietly.

"Are you, dear?" she said, as if not the least surprised at her joining in the conversation. "And you too, Maudie? And Hec and Duke?"

"Oh yes, very," said Maudie. "Of course Hec and Duke don't like difficult ones--there's some kinds that keeps meaning something else all the time, and they are rather difficult, aren't they?"

"Yes," said Magdalen, smiling. "I like the old-fashioned ones that don't mean anything else. I must try to think of some for you."

Maudie clapped her hands, and Hoodie's face grew very bright. Suddenly she gave a little spring, as if a new idea had struck her.

"I've zought of some'sing," she cried, and turning to Miss King,

"Does you like eggs?" she inquired.

"Very much," said her cousin.

"Zen, if you'll tell us stories, I'll get you eggs. Kite, kite fresh.

Doesn't you like them _kite_ fresh?"

"Yes, quite fresh; they can't be too fresh," said Magdalen.

"Can't be too fresh," repeated Hoodie. "Zat means just the moment minute they'se laid. Oh, that'll be lovely. And when'll you tell us some stories, please?"

"Let's see," said Cousin Magdalen. "I'll have to think, and thinking takes a good long while."

"Nebber mind," said Hoodie. "You'll zink as soon as you can, won't you, dear?"

And for the rest of the morning's walk she was perfectly angelic, in consequence of which Cousin Magdalen felt more completely puzzled by her than ever.

The day pa.s.sed over pretty smoothly. Late in the afternoon, just as the children were preparing for a run in the garden before tea, an excitement got up in the nursery by the absence of Hoodie's basket, which she insisted on taking out with her.

"My bastwick; oh my bastwick," she cried. "I must have my bastwick."

"What do you want it for, Miss Hoodie?" said Martin. "There'll be no time for picking flowers, and we're not going up the lanes."

"Oh, but I must have my bastwick," repeated Hoodie.

Martin, fearful of an outbreak, stood still to consider.

"When did you have it last?" she said. "Now I do believe it was yesterday at that cottage, and I brought it home for you. Yes, and I put it down in the back hall where your hoops are. Now, Miss Hoodie, if you'll promise to be very good all the time you're out, you may run and fetch it. I'll be after you with the little boys in five minutes."

Hoodie was off like a shot, but the five minutes grew into ten before Martin and the boys followed her; an ill-behaved b.u.t.ton dropping off Hec's boot while the careful nurse was fastening it.

"And if there's one thing I can't abide to see, it's children's boots wanting b.u.t.tons," she said, "so run down, Miss Maudie, there's a dear, and take care of your sister till I come."

Maudie ran down, but as she did not return Martin felt no misgivings, and she was greatly surprised and disappointed when, on going down-stairs, she was met by the child with an anxious face.

"I couldn't find Hoodie in the back hall or anywhere about there," she said, "and I ran out a little way into the garden, because I knew you'd be so frightened, but I can't see her."

"Oh dear, dear," said poor Martin, "wherever will she have gone to now?