ead again.

"You don't know, Lucy," she said. "I have tried and it isn't any good,
so I've left off."

Lucy trembled a little as to what this announcement might be followed up
by, in the way of special naughtiness. But her fears were misplaced.
Hoodie was perfectly good and gentle all day--almost too much so indeed;
Lucy would have liked to see a touch of her old self-will and petulance,
for she could not help fearing she was to blame for the strange
depression of Hoodie's spirits. She was very kind and good to the little
girl, and did her utmost to amuse her, but it was a strange, sad time.
The house, lately so cheerful with children's voices and the patter of
their restless little feet up and down the passages, was now silent and
gloomy, and the servants spoke with hushed voices and went about with
anxious looks. Hoodie was not allowed to go near Maudie's room--she only
saw her mother and Martin now and then at the end of the passage, or out
of the window, for they were both engrossed in nursing Maudie. Every
morning Hoodie sent Lucy as soon as she awoke to ask for news of
Maudie, and though she said very little, there was a look in her eyes
when Lucy brought back the answer--"Not much better yet, Miss
Hoodie,"--that went to Lucy's heart.

"I'll never say Miss Hoodie has no feelings again," she said to herself,
"never."

After a few days there came a morning when Lucy, who was not very clever
at hiding _her_ feelings, came back to Hoodie looking graver than usual,
and with something very like tears in her eyes.

"Isn't Maudie better _yet_, Lucy?" asked Hoodie with a sad sort of
impatience.

"She couldn't be better _yet_, Miss Hoodie," said Lucy, "an illness like
that always takes its time."

"But is she _worser_ then?" said Hoodie, staring up in Lucy's face.

"I'm afraid she is, rather. Her throat's so sore," said Lucy, turning
away.

Hoodie said nothing, but sat down quietly on her little chair, leaning
her head on her hands. A few minutes after, Lucy went down to the
kitchen with Hoodie's breakfast things--she happened not to shut the
door firmly, as the tray was in her hands, and when she came up-stairs
again, she was surprised to hear some one talking in the room.

"Who can it be?" she said to herself, for Mrs. Caryll had given strict
orders that in case of any infection about Hoodie herself, none of the
other servants were to be with her. Lucy stopped a minute to listen. The
voice was Hoodie's own. S