her such pleasure,
Magdalen kindly did her utmost to increase this pleasure. She taught
Hoodie how to tame and make friends with her pet, to call to it with her
soft little voice--for no one could have a softer or prettier voice than
Hoodie when she chose--always in the same tone, till the bird learnt to
recognize it and to come at her summons. And oh the delight of the first
time this happened! Hoodie was holding out her hand, the forefinger
outstretched to the open door of the cage, half-cooing, half-whistling,
in the pretty way Magdalen had taught her, when birdie, its head cocked
on one side as if half in timidity, half in coquetry, at last mustered
up courage and hopped on to the fat little pink finger.

Hoodie _nearly_ screamed with delight, but recollected herself just in
time not to frighten the bird.

"Oh, Cousin Magdalen," she whispered in the most tremendous excitement,
"Him is pouching, him's pouching on my finger. Oh the darling,--look,
look, Maudie's godmother."

But before Maudie's godmother could get across the room to look, Mr.
Birdie had hopped off its new perch, and the experiment had to be
repeated.

"Come and pouch, birdie, dear birdie; _do_ come and pouch on my finger,"
said Hoodie, beseechingly.

"Call it the way I taught you," whispered Magdalen.

Hoodie did so, and at the sound of her well-known call, the greenfinch
cocked its head, looked round on all sides, appeared to consider, and at
last condescended again to hop on to its little Mistress's finger.

"Isn't it _sweet_?" said Hoodie ecstatically, though scarcely daring to
breathe for fear of disturbing it.

"If you take care never to startle it," said Magdalen, "it will get in
the way of coming regularly whenever you call it. _Never_ let it hear
you speaking angrily or roughly, Hoodie. That would startle it more than
anything."

"_Would_ it?" said Hoodie, regarding her pet with affection not
unmingled with respect. "Would it know I was naughty? Cousin Magdalen,"
she added, looking up into her friend's face with considerable awe in
her bright green eyes; "Cousin Magdalen, do you think _p'raps_ my bird's
a fairy, and that God sent it to teach me to be good?"

Fortunately by this time Magdalen's intercourse with Hoodie had taught
her the necessity of great control of herself. Whatever Hoodie said or
did, she must not be laughed at--not even smiled at, if in the smile
there lurked the slightest shadow of ridicule. Once let Hoodie ima