"That was _vezzy_ good of you," said Hoodie, approvingly; and as happy and light-hearted as if no temper or trouble of any kind had ever come near her, she took Hec's hand and trotted off with her cousin to help in the installation of the bird in its beautiful cage. "What funny creatures children are," said Magdalen to herself, "and of them all surely Hoodie is the funniest." It would be impossible to tell the pleasure that the possession of the little bird gave to Hoodie, and the devotion she showed to it. For some days its cage remained in Miss King's room, that Cousin Magdalen herself might watch how the little creature got on, and there, as Martin said, "morning, noon, and night," Hoodie was to be found. It was the prettiest sight to see her, seated by the table, her elbows resting upon it, and her chubby face leaning on her hands, while her eyes eagerly followed every movement of her favourite. She was never tired of sitting thus, she was never cross or impatient, nor did she ever attempt to touch the greenfinch without Magdalen's leave. And finding that the little girl was so gentle and obedient, and that the bird gave her such pleasure, Magdalen kindly did her utmost to increase this pleasure. She taught Hoodie how to tame and make friends with her pet, to call to it with her soft little voice--for no one could have a softer or prettier voice than Hoodie when she chose--always in the same tone, till the bird learnt to recognize it and to come at her summons. And oh the delight of the first time this happened! Hoodie was holding out her hand, the forefinger outstretched to the open door of the cage, half-cooing, half-whistling, in the pretty way Magdalen had taught her, when birdie, its head cocked on one side as if half in timidity, half in coquetry, at last mustered up courage and hopped on to the fat little pink finger. Hoodie _nearly_ screamed with delight, but recollected herself just in time not to frighten the bird. "Oh, Cousin Magdalen," she whispered in the most tremendous excitement, "Him is pouching, him's pouching on my finger. Oh the darling,--look, look, Maudie's godmother." But before Maudie's godmother could get across the room to look, Mr. Birdie had hopped off its new perch, and the experiment had to be repeated. "Come and pouch, birdie, dear birdie; _do_ come and pouch on my finger," said Hoodie, beseechingly. "Call it the way I taught you," whispered Magdalen. Hoodie did so, and at the sound of her well-known call, the greenfinch cocked its head, looked round on all sides, appeared to consider, and at last condescended again to hop on to its little Mistress's finger. "Isn't it _sweet_?" said Hoodie ecstatically, though scarcely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing it. "If you take care never to startle it," said Magdalen, "it will get in the way of coming regularly whenever you call it. _Never_ let it hear you speaking angrily or roughly, Hoodie. That would startle it more than anything."