s little girl its gentle mistress, and with some instinct of
self-preservation, the greenfinch, with a frightened uncertain note,
flew off Duke's finger, alighted for one instant on the window-sill,
from which it seemed for a moment to look at the group in the room, as
if in farewell, then, before Magdalen could do anything, before Hoodie
had taken in the idea of the misfortune that threatened her, raised its
pretty wings with another soft reproachful note, and flew away--away out
in the bright sunny garden, over the bushes and flowers, away--away--to
some leafy corner up among the high trees, where there would be no angry
voices to startle it, no quarrelsome children to frighten its tender
little heart--no sound but the soft brush of the squirrel's furry tail
among the branches, and the gentle flutter of the summer breeze. Away,
away! But what did that "away" mean to poor broken-hearted Hoodie?

She stood motionless with surprise and horror--she did not dart to the
window as one would have expected--ready almost to throw herself out of
it in fruitless pursuit of her favourite--she stood perfectly still, as
if turned into stone. But the expression on her face was so strange and
unnatural that Miss King felt frightened.

"Hoodie," she exclaimed. "Hoodie, child, don't stand like that. Come to
the window and call to your bird. Perhaps he will hear you and fly
back."

She said it more to rouse Hoodie out of the depth of her misery than
because she really thought the bird would return, for in the bottom of
her heart she feared much that it had truly flown away, and that once it
felt itself out in the open air its natural instinct of freedom would
prevent its returning to its cage.

Hoodie started.

"Come back? Do you _think_ he'll come back, Cousin Magdalen?" she
exclaimed, and rushing to the window, and leaning out so far that
Magdalen was obliged to hold her for fear she should fall over, she gave
the soft clear call which her cousin had taught her--over and over
again, till, tired and out of breath, she drew in her head and looked up
in Magdalen's face despairingly.

"He won't come," she said, "he won't come. P'raps he's flied away too
far to hear me. P'raps he can hear me but he doesn't want to come. Oh
dear, _oh_ dear, what shall I do? My bird, my bird--you always said he
would fly away if he heard me speak c'oss, and I did speak c'oss, dedful
c'oss. _Oh!_ what shall I do?"

Hoodie sank down on the floor--a litt