"It must have fallen out of the nest," said Magdalen, looking up as she spoke at some of the trees near where they stood. "Still it seemed fully fledged, and it should be quite able to fly--most likely its parents suppose it is out in the world on its own account by now, and even if we could find the nest, it is pretty sure to be deserted." "You won't put it back in the netst, Cousin Magdalen--you don't mean that? It wouldn't have nothing to eat, and it would die," said Hoodie, the tears welling up again, for she hardly understood what her cousin was saying. "No, dear. I don't think it would be any good putting it back in the nest, and it would be very difficult to know which was its nest, there must be so many up in those trees," said Magdalen. "Besides, as you say, it wouldn't get anything to eat, for if all its brothers and sisters have flown away, the parent birds will not return to the nest. No, I think we had better take it into the house and take care of it till it gets quite strong. See, Hoodie, it is beginning to get out of its fright and to look about it." "The darling," said Hoodie, ecstatically. "It's cocking up its _sweet_ little head as if it wanted me to kiss it. Oh, _dear_ Cousin Magdalen, isn't it sweet? Do let me carry it into the house." [Illustration: "The darling," said Hoodie ecstatically] But Magdalen told her it was better to leave the bird for the present in her handkerchief, which she had made into a comfortable little nest for it, "till we can find a cage for it; there is sure to be an empty cage of some kind about the house. And then we must see if your mother will give you leave to keep it for a while." "For alvays!" said Hoodie. "I must keep it for alvays, Maudie's godmother. Maudie has two calanies in a cage, so I might have one bird--mightn't I, Cousin Magdalen?" "We'll ask your mother," repeated Magdalen, afraid of committing herself to a child like Hoodie, who never, under any circumstances, forgot anything in the shape of a promise that was made to her, or had the least mercy on any unfortunate "big person" that showed any signs of "crying off" from such. CHAPTER IX. THE GOLDEN CAGE. "Here secure from every danger, Hop about, and chirp, and eat." "Yes," repeated Hoodie to herself, as she followed her cousin into the house, "I'll keep the little bird _alvays_, and I'll teach it to love me; I'll be so _vezzy_ kind to it." And as they entered the billiard-room where, true to her charge, faithful little Maudie was drying and warming the twins' feet by the fire, Hoodie exclaimed with great triumph-- "It's a bird, Maudie, a most bootiful bird, and I'm going to have it all for my vezzy own and keep it in a cage alvays. Cousin Magdalen is going to ask Mamma. May I go and tell her to come now quick, Cousin Magdalen?"