t, Miss Hoodie," said Martin, attempting firmness and
decision as a last resource.

"But I mustn't, 'cos I _won't_," said Hoodie.

Martin glanced back along the road despairingly. Several groups of the
country people on their way home from church were approaching the little
party as they stood on the footpath.

"Do come on, Martin," said Maudie; "it is so horrid for the people to
see such a fuss. And then they say all about that we are all naughty.
Look, there's farmer Bright and his daughters coming. Do come on--you'll
_have_ to let Hoodie walk with you, and Hec'll come with me."

"Miss Hoodie," said Martin once more, "you are to walk on with Miss
Maudie, do you hear?"

"Yes," said Hoodie, without moving an inch, "I hear, but I _won't_ walk
with ugly Maudie."

The Bright family were fast approaching. In despair Martin turned to
Hoodie.

"I am obliged to let you walk with me, Miss Julian," she said, solemnly,
"because I cannot have every one in the road see how naughty you are.
But when we get home I shall speak to your Mamma, and ask her to let you
go walks alone. You make us all miserable."

Hoodie took Martin's hand and marched on.

"I should like to go walks alone, werry much," she said, amiably, to
which remark Martin did not make any reply.

The Bright family passed them with a friendly word to Martin, saying
something in praise of the nice appearance of her little charges. And
Hoodie smiled back to farmer Bright, as if she thought herself the best
and sweetest-tempered of little girls. Then when they were out of
sight, she suddenly dropped Martin's hand.

"I don't want to walk with you. You're an ugly 'sing too," she said. "I
like to walk belone, but I would walk with you if I _said_ I would."

And on she marched defiantly, well in front of the whole party. And
again poor Martin murmured to herself,--"Was there _ever_ such a child?"

What was Hoodie saying to herself on in front where no one could hear
her?

"They don't love me. They like me to be away. Nobody loves poor Hoodie.
Hoodie can't be good when nobody loves her. It isn't Hoodie's fault."

And through her babyish brain there ran misty, dreamy ideas of something
she would do to make "them" all sorry--she would go away somewhere "far,
far," and never come back again. But where? This she could not yet
settle about, but fortunately for the peace of the rest of the walk her
cogitations kept her quiet till they were all at home again.

Mart