?

"The little birds in the nests are kind to each other. They don't wake
each other up in the night and scream so that there is no peace. I
wonder why children can't be good too," she said.

"I'm _not_ sc'eaming," said Hoodie indignantly. "I've stoppened."

"I'm glad to hear it. But if I get into bed and lie down and try to go
to sleep, perhaps you'll begin again, as you don't care for what other
people like."

Hoodie was silent for a minute.

"Does you want to go to sleep?"

"Yes," said Magdalen. "I'm very tired."

"Zen I won't sc'eam."

Her cousin felt inclined to clap her hands, but wisely forbore.

"Thank you," she said quietly, as she lay down.

Hoodie wriggled.

"No, zou isn't to say zank zou," she said. "I don't like zou. I don't
like any people, 'cos they stopped my getting zat nice fresh egg. I
won't get zou eggs no more. I don't like zou."

"Very well," said her cousin.

Some minutes' quiet followed. Then Hoodie's voice again.

"When will zou tell us that story?" she inquired coolly.

"What story?"

"Zat story about oldwashion fairies, or some'sing like zat."

"Oh, I said I'd try to think of a story for you," said Miss King,
sleepily. "Well, I won't forget."

"Zou must get it ready quick," said Hoodie. "Zou must tell it me, zou
know, 'cos I've been so good about not sc'eaming."

"But not now. You don't want me to tell you stories _now_," said her
cousin in alarm.

"No, zou may go to sleep now," replied Hoodie, condescendingly, adding
after a moment's pause, "_I_ can tell stories, lovely stories."

"Can you? well, you had better think of one, and have it all ready,"
said Magdalen in fresh alarm.

"Mine's is always zeady, but zou may go to sleep now," was the reply, to
her great relief, the truth being that Hoodie herself was as sleepy as
she could be, for in two minutes her soft even breathing told that for a
while her fidgety little spirit was at rest.

Magdalen lay awake some time longer. In a half-dreamy way she was
thinking over in her own mind the old fairy tales she had loved as a
little girl--with them there mingled in her fancy the scenes and
memories of her own childhood. She was glad to find Hoodie so eager for
stories, it might be one way of winning the strange-tempered little
creature's confidence, and she tried to call to mind some of the tales
most likely to interest her. And somehow, "between sleeping and waking,"
there came back to her mind the shadow of a fanciful