Hoodie Part 8

"You have plenty of kisses on that rosy mouth of yours, Hoodie," she said. "Won't you spare me one?"

Hoodie screwed up her lips tighter than before; that was the only sign she gave of hearing what was said to her.

"_Oh_, Hoodie," said Maudie, reproachfully.

Hoodie turned upon her with a glance of supreme contempt.

"_You_ can kissen her," she said; "she's yours, she's not mine. _I_ don't want to kissen her."

Cousin Magdalen looked at Maudie for explanation.

"What does she mean?" she said.

Maudie and Martin looked greatly distressed.

"Oh," said Maudie, "it's only about your being my G.o.dmother and not hers. We were speaking about it in the nursery, and she said n.o.body ever gave her anything--like me having you, you know, Cousin Magdalen--and she was vexed, you know," she added in a lower voice, "because she couldn't find our grandmother's cottage yesterday."

"Yes," said Cousin Magdalen, "I know. But, Hoodie dear, you _have_ a G.o.dmother and a very nice one, as well as a grandmother."

"They're none use having," muttered Hoodie. "I never see them."

"But some day you will. And besides, even though I'm Maudie's G.o.dmother, can't I love you too?"

"No," said Hoodie bluntly.

"And won't you kiss me?"

"No," said Hoodie again. "I don't like you. I don't like your hairs.

They is ugly, hanging down like that. I don't want to kiss you."

And she turned her back on Cousin Magdalen, and marched quietly to the door.

Martin began some apologies, but Miss King stopped her.

"Never mind, Martin," she said. "It really doesn't matter. She will get to know me better in a little."

But all the same, Cousin Magdalen, being, though very amiable and sensible, only human, _did_ feel hurt by the little girl's rude repulse.

It is never pleasant to be repulsed by any one; it is, I think, to even right-feeling people, particularly hurting to be repulsed by a _child_.

And then Magdalen had been thinking a great deal about this poor little Hoodie that n.o.body seemed able to manage, and planning to herself various little ways by which she hoped to win her confidence, and thus perhaps be of real service to the child, and through her to her mother.

"And now," she said to herself, "she has evidently taken a prejudice to me at first sight. What a pity! Yet," she added, as she brushed out and arranged the long thick brown hair which Hoodie had objected to, "she is only a baby. Perhaps she will like me better when my hair is fastened up. I must try her again."

The other three children had stayed in their cousin's room--Martin having flown after Hoodie, whom she was now afraid to trust for a moment out of her sight--and while she finished dressing they chattered away in their own fas.h.i.+on.

"Poor mamma's dot one headache zis morning," said Hec.

"Yes," said Duke, "papa comed to the nursley to say Hoodie wasn't to go to be talkened to, 'cos it would make poor mamma's headache worser."

"Won't n.o.body talken to Hoodie zen?" said Hec.

"Don't be silly, Hec dear," said Maudie, "of course mamma mustn't talk to her when her head's bad. Papa said to Martin that she must not let Hoodie out of her sight, but that he couldn't have mamma bothered about it any more, and that it would be better to drop the subject. What does it mean to 'drop the subject,' Cousin Magdalen? I thought perhaps it meant to put down the lowest bar on the gate at the end of the garden, where Hoodie sometimes creeps through to the c.o.c.ky field. Could it be that?"

"No," said Magdalen, turning away so as to hide her face, "it just means not to say any more about Hoodie's running away yesterday, because it has troubled your mother so much."

"Of course," said Maudie. "It is all that that has given her a headache.

It is nearly always Hoodie that gives her headaches. I wonder how she _can_."

"But, Maudie dear," said her G.o.dmother very gently, "do you think it is quite kind of you to speak so? It is right to be sorry when Hoodie is naughty, but remember how much younger she is than you. And she does not _want_ to make your mother ill--when she is naughty she just forgets all but the feelings she has herself, but that is different from _wis.h.i.+ng_ to hurt her mother."

Maudie grew very red.

"Yes," she said in a low voice, "I see how you mean, Cousin Magdalen. I don't want to say unkind things of Hoodie."

"No, dear. I don't think you do," said her G.o.dmother. "Tell me why do you call that field 'the c.o.c.ky field'?"

Maudie laughed.

"Oh, it's because in one corner of it there's the little house papa's made for the bantam c.o.c.ks. Oh, Cousin Magdalen, they are _such_ ducks."

"_Such_ ducks," echoed Hec and Duke. "And they lay such lovely eggs."

"What remarkable creatures they must be," said Miss King. "But I must own I don't quite see how they can be _ducks_ if they're c.o.c.ks and hens."

All the children laughed.

"They isn't zeally ducks," explained matter-of-fact Duke, condescendingly. "But, you see, we calls zem ducks 'cos zey is so nice and pretty."

"Ah yes, I see," said Cousin Magdalen, gravely. "So perhaps when you know me better, if you think me _very_ nice, you'll call me a duck. Will you, Duke? Even though really, you know, I'm an old woman."

"Yes," said Duke, "p'raps I will. But I didn't know zou was a _old_ woman."

"Didn't you, you dear old man?" said his cousin, laughing. "Never mind, you may call me 'a old duck,' if you like. And after breakfast will you take me to see these wonderful bantams--that's to say if you're allowed to go there."

"Oh yes," said Maudie. "We may go whenever we like. They're so tame--indeed, they're too tame, papa says, and that was why he made them a place further away from the house than they used to be. They used to come and hop about all the rooms, and once they laid an egg on one of the library arm-chairs, and another time in papa's paper basket. They thought that was a lovely nest."

"And are they better behaved now?" said Miss King.

"Oh yes, only sometimes they lay astray. So papa gives us a penny if we find any of their eggs about the field or in the hedges anywhere," said Maudie. "That's what makes Hoodie so fond of going in the c.o.c.ky field.

She's far the cleverest at finding eggs. You should see her--and she's got such a way with the c.o.c.ks. She can cluck, cluck them close up to her, and often she catches them. They're not a bit afraid of her."

"How funny," said Magdalen, not sorry to see Maudie's childish attempt at saying something in praise of her little sister. "I must certainly go with you to see the bantams after breakfast."

"Timmediate after breakfast!" said Hec. "Will you come timmediate? For after zen Maudie has lessons."

"Yes," said Maudie, "I have lessons. Miss Meade comes from Springley to give me lessons."

"And doesn't Hoodie have any?"

"Sometimes," replied Maudie. "When she's in a good humour. When she's not, it's no use trying. I heard Miss Meade say so one day, and so now Hoodie very often says she's in a bad humour whether she is or not, 'cos she doesn't like lessons."