"No, my dear, certainly not. Your mother's busy and must not be interrupted. You may go and ask for a little milk and a bit of bread, and I'll try if I can make the little bird eat something. It's opening its mouth as if it was hungry. But no--stop, Hoodie. I was forgetting what a state you are in. Maudie, take off her shoes and stockings too--that's a kind little girl. I'll help you in a minute when I've found a safe place for the little bird. There now--that'll do beautifully," as she spoke taking the skeins of wool out of her little work-basket and putting the bird in instead and carefully closing the lid. The children looked on with great interest. "Is him always to live in zere, Cousin Magdalen?" inquired Hec. Magdalen was by this time employed in examining into the state of Hoodie's garments. It was rather deplorable! "It's no good, Maudie," she exclaimed at last. "She must be thoroughly undressed, for she's damp all over. I _must_ take her up to Martin--oh, dear, what a pity! Just when we had had such a nice morning." "But it was a vezzy good thing I saw the little bird felling down, wasn't it?" said Hoodie complacently, as she trotted off with her cousin's hand. "And Martin won't 'cold _me_, 'cos it was your fault for letting me go out in the wet; wasn't it, Cousin Magdalen?" she added with great satisfaction. Magdalen, to tell the truth, found it rather difficult to keep her temper with Hoodie just then. "_Hoodie_," she said sharply. "It is not right to speak like that. You _know_ you ran away out before I could stop you." "But if you hadn't opened the door, I couldn't have goned," was Hoodie's calm reply, with mischievous triumph in her bright eyes. Martin received the misfortune very philosophically--perhaps she was not sorry, at the bottom of her heart, that some one else should have some experience of the trials she had with Hoodie. "Not that she means always to be naughty, of course, Miss," she explained to Magdalen. "But she's that heedless and tiresome--oh dear! Though one could manage that if it wasn't for her queer temper--_queer_ indeed! queer's no word for it." "Martin, Martin," came in Hoodie's shrill voice from the inner room, where she was sitting, minus the greater part of her attire, while Martin "aired" the clean clothes, unexpectedly required, at the nursery fire. "Martin, you must go down to the kitchen _at oncest_, and get some bread and milk for my bird. I'm going to keep it _alvays_, Martin, and you mustn't let Duke and Hec touch it never." "Well, well, Missie, we'll see," said Martin; "you must get your Mamma's leave first, you know."