t last her mingled feelings found relief in a burst of sobs.

The sight was too much for Hec, already in a sorely depressed and
tearful condition. He threw his arms round Hoodie, nearly dragging her
off her chair in his endeavours to get her shaggy head down to the level
of his own close-cropped dark one for an embrace.

"Oh Hoodie, Hoodie, _dear_ Hoodie, don't cry," he beseeched her. "It's
all Hec's fault. Naughty Hec. Oh Hoodie, please 'agive me and kiss me,
and I'll never, never touch your bird again."

[Illustration: "Please 'agive me and kiss me."]

Hoodie was quite melted.

"Dear Hec--poor Hec," she cried in her turn. "Don't cry, dear Hec," and
the two little creatures hugged and kissed and cried, all in one.

"Let's kiss Maudie's godmother too. She didn't think you was naughty,
Hoodie," suggested Hec, and Hoodie at once took his advice, so the
kissing and hugging were transferred to poor Magdalen, who bore them
heroically, till at last she was so very nearly smothered that she was
obliged to cry for mercy.

"And let us go back to my room now," she said, "and introduce the little
bird to its new house. It hasn't seen it yet, you know, Hoodie."

"_Hasn't_ it?" said Hoodie.

"Of course not. The cage is yours--your very own. I waited for you to
come before putting the bird in it."

"That was _vezzy_ good of you," said Hoodie, approvingly; and as happy
and light-hearted as if no temper or trouble of any kind had ever come
near her, she took Hec's hand and trotted off with her cousin to help in
the installation of the bird in its beautiful cage.

"What funny creatures children are," said Magdalen to herself, "and of
them all surely Hoodie is the funniest."

It would be impossible to tell the pleasure that the possession of the
little bird gave to Hoodie, and the devotion she showed to it. For some
days its cage remained in Miss King's room, that Cousin Magdalen herself
might watch how the little creature got on, and there, as Martin said,
"morning, noon, and night," Hoodie was to be found. It was the prettiest
sight to see her, seated by the table, her elbows resting upon it, and
her chubby face leaning on her hands, while her eyes eagerly followed
every movement of her favourite. She was never tired of sitting thus,
she was never cross or impatient, nor did she ever attempt to touch the
greenfinch without Magdalen's leave. And finding that the little girl
was so gentle and obedient, and that the bird gave