Hoodie Part 7

They were all standing at the door--Maudie, Hec and Duke, that is to say, and mother in the background, and farther back still, half the servants of the household. But Hoodie marched in demurely by Martin's side--nay, more, she had taken hold of Martin's hand. And when Mrs.

Caryll came forward hurriedly to meet them, of the two, Martin looked much the more upset and uncomfortable.

"You have brought her back safe and sound, Martin!" exclaimed Hoodie's mother. "Oh, Hoodie, what a fright you have given us! What was she doing? How was it, Martin?"

Martin hesitated.

"If you please, ma'am," she said, "I think I'd rather tell you all about it afterwards. It's not late, but Miss Hoodie _must_ be tired. Won't it be as well, ma'am, for her to go to bed at once?"

Mrs. Caryll understood Martin's manner.

"Yes," she said. "I think it will. Say good night to me, Hoodie, and to Maudie and your brothers. And to-morrow morning you must come early to my room. I want to talk to you."

Hoodie looked up curiously in her mother's face. Was she vexed, or sorry, or what? Hoodie could not decide.

"Good night, mother," she said, quietly. "Good night, Hec and Duke and Maudie," and she coolly turned away, and followed Martin up-stairs.

The three other children crept round their mother. She looked pale and troubled.

"Mamma," said one of the little boys, "has Hoodie been _naughty_? Aren't you glad she's come home?"

Mrs. Caryll stroked his head.

"Yes, dear," she said. "Of course I'm glad, _very_ glad. But it wasn't good of her to frighten us all so, and I must make her understand that."

"_Of course_," said Maudie, virtuously. "You don't understand, Hec."

"But if we had all kissened Hoodie, she'd have known we were glad she had comed back," said Hec, still with a tone of being only half satisfied.

A shadow crossed Mrs. Caryll's face. Was her little son's instinct right?

"Shall us all go and kissen her now?" suggested Duke in a whisper to Maudie.

"No, of course not," replied Magdalen. "You're too little to understand, and you're teasing poor mamma. Come with me and we'll play at something in the study till Martin comes for you. Don't be unhappy, dear mamma,"

she added, turning to kiss her mother. "I am sure Hoodie didn't mean to vex you, only she is so strange."

That was just it--Hoodie was so strange, so self-willed, and yet babyish, so heartless, and yet so impressionable. A sharp word or tone even would make her cry, and she was sensitive to even less than that, yet seemingly quite careless of the trouble and distress she caused to others.

"My good little Maudie," said Mrs. Caryll, "why should not Hoodie too be a good and understandable little girl?" she added to herself.

And what were the thoughts in Hoodie's queer little brain; what were the feelings in her queer little heart, when Martin had safely tucked her into her own nice little cot, and, rather shortly, bidden her lie quite still and not disturb her brothers when they came up to bed?

"I wish I had stayed with little baby's mother," she said to herself.

"n.o.body was glad for me to come home. They is all ugly 'sings. n.o.body kissened me. If it wasn't for zat ugly man I'd go back there, I would, whatever Martin said."

"I really think sometimes that there's something wanting in her nature,"

said Hoodie's mother, sadly, that same evening. She had been listening to Martin's account of the meeting at the cottage, and was now telling over the whole affair in the drawing-room, for Mr. Caryll had only returned home late that evening, as he had been some way by train to meet a visitor who was coming to stay for a time at his house. This was a cousin of his wife's, a young lady named Magdalen King, who occupied the important position of Maudie's G.o.dmother. It was some years since Cousin Magdalen had seen the children, but she had so often received descriptions of them from their mother that she seemed to know them quite well. She listened with great interest to the account of Hoodie's escapade.

"She must be a strange little girl," she remarked, quietly.

"Yes," said Mrs. Caryll, "so strange that, as I said, I really think sometimes there is something wanting in her nature."

"Or unawakened," said Magdalen. "I don't pretend to understand children well--you know I was an only child--but still a little child's nature cannot be very easy to understand at the best of times. It must be so folded up, as it were, like a little half-opened bud. And then children's power of expressing themselves is so small--they must often feel themselves misunderstood and yet not know how to say even that. And oh, dear, what a puzzle life and the world and everything must seem to them!"

"Not to them only, my dear Magdalen," said Mr. Caryll, drily.

"And," said Mrs. Caryll, "it really isn't always the case that children are difficult to understand. None of ours are but Hoodie. There's Maudie now--she has always been a delicious child, and the little boys are very nice, except when Hoodie upsets them. But for her, as she is constantly told, there never would be the least ruffle in the nursery."

"But does it do any good to tell her so?" said Miss King.

Hoodie's mother smiled,

"My dear Magdalen," she said, "wait till you see her. What _would_ do her any good no one as yet has found out. She is just the most contradictory, queer-tempered, troublesome child that ever was known."

"Poor little girl," said Maudie's G.o.dmother, thinking to herself that a little dog with such a _very_ bad name as Hoodie was really not to be envied. She loved her own G.o.d-daughter Maudie dearly, and she knew it to be true that she was a very nice child, but her heart was sore for poor cantankerous Hoodie. You see her patience had not yet been tried by her as had been the patience of all those about the little girl, so after all she could not consider herself a fair judge.

And her first introduction to the small black sheep of the nursery did not, it must be confessed, tend to prove that Hoodie's doings and misdoings were exaggerated.

This was how it happened.

Maudie's G.o.dmother was generally an early riser, but this first morning she somehow--tired perhaps with her journey--slept later than usual. She was not quite dressed, at least her pretty curly brown hair was still hanging about her shoulders, when a knock--a lot of little knocks, and then one rather firmer and more decided--came to the door, and in answer to her "Come in," appeared Martin, an old acquaintance of hers, beaming with pleasure, and ushering in her little people, all spick and span from their morning toilet, looking not unlike four rather shy little sheep under the charge of a faithful "colly."

But when Martin caught sight of the young lady in her white dressing-gown and unarranged hair, she drew back.

"Oh, ma'am, I beg your pardon," she said. "My mistress said I might bring them in to see you first thing, as you were always dressed so early, but I can take them back to the nursery till you are ready.

They've been worrying to come to you for ever so long."

"And you were quite right to bring them," said Cousin Magdalen, heartily. "Come now, darlings, and let us make friends. I can tell Maudie and Hoodie in a moment of course, but I'm quite in a puzzle as to which is Hec and which Duke."

"I'm Hec," and "I'm Duke," said the two little boys shyly, nestling up to their new friend as they spoke. She kissed them fondly.

"Dear little fellows!" she said.

"Yes, Cousin Magdalen, aren't they dear little boys? And will you please kiss me too?" said Maudie, in her pretty soft voice.

Magdalen put her arm round her as she did so.

"And Hoodie?" she said. "I must have a kiss from Hoodie too, mustn't I?"

Hoodie stood stock still.

"Come now, Miss Hoodie," whispered poor Martin. All the time she had been dressing the child she had been telling her how good she was to be to Cousin Magdalen, and hinting that perhaps if she behaved _very_ nicely it would help to make them all forget the trouble she had caused the day before. But, alas! with what result?

Hoodie stood stock still!

Magdalen put out her hand and tried to draw the child to her.