le heap of tears and misery. Hec
and Duke flung their arms around her, beseeching her not to cry so, but
there was no comfort for Hoodie.

"It was my own fault," she kept repeating, "my own fault for speaking so
c'oss. The bird will never come back. Oh no, Hec and Duke, dear Hec and
Duke, it isn't no good kissing me. I'll never, never be happy again, and
it's my own fault."

It was impossible not to be sorry for her. Magdalen felt almost ready to
burst into tears herself. She took Hoodie up in her arms and tried to
comfort her.

"I don't think you should quite lose heart about birdie, Hoodie. He may
come back again, once he has had a good fly. We must keep the window
open, and you must keep calling to him every now and then, in the way he
is used to. And perhaps it would be a good plan to go out in the garden
and call--he may perhaps have flown up among the trees at the other
side."

Hoodie was only too ready. Patiently, while her cousin went down to her
breakfast, the little girl stood at the window calling to the truant.
Every now and then the sobs that would continue to rise, made a sad
little quaver in the middle, and once or twice poor Hoodie was obliged
to stop altogether. But she soon began again, and every now and then
between her whistles, she said in a beseeching, half heart-broken tone--

"Oh, birdie, _won't_ you come? Come, dear birdie, oh _do_ come and pouch
on my finger. I'll never, never speak c'oss again--never, dear birdie,
if only you'll come back and pouch on my finger."

It was very melancholy. Very melancholy too was the walking about the
garden in vain hopes that birdie might be somewhere near and would fly
down again. The whole day passed most sadly. Hoodie's eyes were swollen
with crying, and she could scarcely eat any dinner or tea, and her
distress naturally was felt by all the nursery party. It was one of the
saddest days the children had ever known, and they all went to bed with
sorely troubled little hearts.

Magdalen too was grieved and sorry.

"I blame myself," she said to Hoodie's mother. "Pets are always a risk,
and Hoodie is such a strange mixture that one shouldn't run risks with
her. I wish I had never suggested her keeping the bird as a pet, but I
thought it might be good for her to have something of her very own to
care for and attend to."

"And so it was," said Hoodie's mother. "It has done her a great deal of
good; it has softened her wonderfully. We all noticed it. And