Cousin Magdalen felt that she knew and understood too little to attempt the interference she would have liked to use. More than interference indeed. For the moment she felt so provoked with Hoodie's naughty, silly bad temper, that she really felt ready to give her a severe scolding. She was too wise to do so, however, and certainly it would have done no good. More for Maudie's sake than for Hoodie's, she tried to turn the conversation in a pleasant way. "It is very queer," she said, "that people almost never do when they are grown up what they plan as children. When I was little I always planned that I should do nothing but travel, and after all, very few people have travelled less than I. I have been very stay-at-home." "I like travelling a little way," said Maudie; "but when it is a long way, it is so tiring." "Wouldn't you like the magic carpet that flew with you wherever you wished to be?" said Cousin Magdalen. "Was it in a fairy story?" said Maudie; and though Hoodie said nothing, she came slowly nearer and stood staring up in Miss King's face with her queer baby blue eyes that could look so sweet, and could, alas! look so cross and angry. "Yes," said Cousin Magdalen, in reply to Maudie's question, "in a very old fairy story. Are you fond of fairy stories?" "_I_ is," said a voice that was certainly not Maudie's. Magdalen turned to her quietly. "Are you, dear?" she said, as if not the least surprised at her joining in the conversation. "And you too, Maudie? And Hec and Duke?" "Oh yes, very," said Maudie. "Of course Hec and Duke don't like difficult ones--there's some kinds that keeps meaning something else all the time, and they are rather difficult, aren't they?" "Yes," said Magdalen, smiling. "I like the old-fashioned ones that don't mean anything else. I must try to think of some for you." Maudie clapped her hands, and Hoodie's face grew very bright. Suddenly she gave a little spring, as if a new idea had struck her. "I've zought of some'sing," she cried, and turning to Miss King, "Does you like eggs?" she inquired. "Very much," said her cousin. "Zen, if you'll tell us stories, I'll get you eggs. Kite, kite fresh. Doesn't you like them _kite_ fresh?" "Yes, quite fresh; they can't be too fresh," said Magdalen. "Can't be too fresh," repeated Hoodie. "Zat means just the moment minute they'se laid. Oh, that'll be lovely. And when'll you tell us some stories, please?" "Let's see," said Cousin Magdalen. "I'll have to think, and thinking takes a good long while." "Nebber mind," said Hoodie. "You'll zink as soon as you can, won't you, dear?" And for the rest of the morning's walk she was perfectly angelic, in consequence of which Cousin Magdalen felt more completely puzzled by her than ever.