ou
remember _our_ grandmother? She was here two years ago. But I suppose
you're too little to remember."

"Don't laugh at her for not understanding, Miss Maudie," said Martin;
"besides, don't you remember your grandmother's address is Parkwood
Cottage? Very likely she's thinking of that."

"Yes," said Hoodie, "I was 'sinking of zat. I want a grandmother in a
cottage. Grandmother in a cottage would be very kind, and there is no
woofs."

"Oh no, Miss Hoodie, there are no wolves," said Martin; "all the wolves
were sent away long, long ago. Now, dears, you must have your hands
washed and your hairs brushed to go down to the drawing-room."

Hoodie was very quiet that evening. Her father noticed it after the
children had gone up to bed again, and said to her mother that he was in
hopes the child was going to turn over a new leaf. And her mother
replied with a smile that she had been speaking to her very seriously
that morning, and was glad to see how well the little girl had taken it.
So both father and mother felt satisfied and happy about the child,
little imagining the queer confused whirl of ideas at that very moment
chasing each other round her busy brain.

For Hoodie did not go to sleep till much later than the others, though
she lay so still that her wakefulness was unnoticed. Under her pillow,
wrapped up firstly in a piece of newspaper, over that in the clean
pocket-handkerchief Martin had given her for church, were three biscuits
she had got at dessert, two pieces of bread-and-butter, and one of bread
and honey, which unobserved she had "saved" from tea. What she meant to
do with these provisions was by no means clear, even in her own mind.
She only knew that the proper thing was to have a basket of eatables of
some kind, provided for a voyage of discovery such as that on which she
was resolved.

"The little Hoodie-girl in the picture has a bastwick, and Martin had a
bastwick when she was a Hoodie-girl," she said to herself dreamily. "I
will get more bead-and-butter to-morrow and then I can go. After
dinner-time Martin wented when she was a Hoodie-girl. I will go after
dinner-time too. The grandmother in the cottage will love Hoodie and
there is no woofs. Peoples here doesn't love Hoodie."

And so thinking she fell asleep.

The next morning happened to be rainy. Hoodie ate her breakfast in
silence, and what she did _not_ eat she quietly added to the contents of
the pocket-handkerchief parcel. Martin noticed