Mrs. Molesworth

“ Somewhat to her surprise things got no worse—not even when a message came up-stairs from "mother," that Maudie was to be ready to go out a drive with her at two, did Hoodie's rather curiously quiet manner desert her.
"I don't care. Nobody loves me," she repeated to herself, but so low that no one heard her.
"It'll be your turn next time, you know, Hoodie dear. Mother never forgets turns," said Magdalen consolingly, as, arrayed in her "best" white alpaca trimmed with blue, and white hat with blue feathers to match, she ran into the nursery to say good-bye to the stayers-at-home. ”

“ Is it not better to be ourselves, after all?
Magdalen leant out of the window, enjoying the sweet air and sunshine, but thinking all the time how much more she would have enjoyed this bright morning but for her sympathy with poor Hoodie's trouble.
Suddenly a thought struck her. Possibly the bird, chilled and hungry after some hours' freedom, unaccustomed to be out in the dark, or to find food for itself—possibly he might have returned to his cage in the night. Magdalen threw on her dressing-gown and hurried into the ante-room. ”

“ For unfortunately, through hearing some of the servants talking, Maudie knew some part of what Hoodie had been saying in her unconsciousness, and it was this that was distressing her so greatly.
Oh, children dear, remember this—there is no pain so terrible, no suffering so without comfort, as the feeling sorrow too late for unkindness or want of tenderness to others—little sharp words which did not seem so bad at the time, careless or selfish neglect of the wishes we could have gratified with just a little trouble—how they all rise up afterwards and refuse to be forgotten! ”

“ When I was little I always planned that I should do nothing but travel, and after all, very few people have travelled less than I. I have been very stay-at-home."
"I like travelling a little way," said Maudie; "but when it is a long way, it is so tiring."
"Wouldn't you like the magic carpet that flew with you wherever you wished to be?" said Cousin Magdalen.
"Was it in a fairy story?" said Maudie; and though Hoodie said nothing, she came slowly nearer and stood staring up in Miss King's face with her queer baby blue eyes that could look so sweet, and could, alas! look so cross and angry. ”

“ Though, after all, it is better to be a child than a bird or a flower—whatever mistakes we may make, whatever wrong we may do, all, alas, adding to the great mass of mistakes and wrong—whatever sorrows we may have to bear, it is something to feel in us the power of bearing them, the power of trying to put right even what we may have helped to put wrong—best of all the power of loving each other, and of helping each other in a way that the happy, innocent birds and flowers know nothing about. ”

“ 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 godmother, 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 god-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. ”

“ So Magdalen's face remained quite grave as she replied to Hoodie's question,
"I think that everything nice and pretty that comes to us is sent by God, dear. And He means them all to teach us to be good. But I don't think you need fancy your little bird is a fairy."
"It's so clever," said Hoodie. "Fancy him knowing when I call. Do you think some day it'll learn to speak, Cousin Magdalen?"
Cousin Magdalen shook her head.
"I'm afraid not. It isn't the kind of bird that ever learns to speak," she replied, as gravely as before. ”

“ And once she dreamt that the bird flew into her room and perched at the foot of her bed, and when she exclaimed with delight at seeing it again it suddenly began to speak to her, and its voice sounded exactly like Hoodie's.
"I have come to say good-bye to you, Maudie's godmother," it said. "Nobody loves me, and I am always naughty, so I'd better go away."
And as Magdalen started up to catch the bird, or Hoodie, whichever it was—in her dream it seemed both—she awoke. ”

“ If we unplanted one, Lucy, and took it home, and watered it lots, twenty times a day p'raps, wouldn't more flowers come?"
"Oh dear," she exclaimed. "Are the flowers all gone?"
"Not this year, Miss Hoodie," said Lucy. "Not all the watering in the world would make any flowers come before the spring, and watering too much would kill the plant altogether."
"Oh dear," repeated Hoodie, "what shall I do?"
"Won't no other flowers do?" said Lucy. "There's violets still, and lots of others in the garden that Hopkins would give you—much prettier than primroses." ”

“ A slight movement just then made itself heard in Hoodie's cot; a flutter more than anything else. Magdalen, gently putting Maudie on her chair, started up in alarm. She knew that any change in Hoodie was now most critical. She bent over the child, the better to observe her. A faint smile came fluttering to Hoodie's face, and in another moment, with a little effort, she opened her eyes. But she did not seem to see, or if she saw, she did not recognize, Magdalen, for the word that she whispered was "Maudie." ”

“ I don't love any body," screamed Hoodie.
"It certainly doesn't look as if you did, and very soon nobody will love you, Miss Hoodie, if you go on so," said Martin, virtuously.
"I wish," said Duke, the second twin, "I wish papa would build anoder gate big house and put Hoodie to live there all alone, don't you, Maudie? A gate big house where not nobody could hear her sceaming."
Great applause followed this brilliant idea—but the laughter only increased Hoodie's fury. Duke was the next she turned upon.
"I don't love you, naughty, ugly Duke," she screamed. "I don't love any body. ”

“ A pretty, cheerful nursery—a nursery in which surely children could not but be happy—with pictures on the walls and toys in the glass-doored cupboard, and rocking-horse and doll-house, and everything a child's heart could wish for. ”

“ Caryll. "You have nothing whatever to reproach yourself with, dear Magdalen. Hoodie must be taught that she cannot be allowed to yield to that selfish, jealous temper."
"I know," said Magdalen. "But how are we to teach her? that is the difficulty—the least severity or sternness which does good to other children, seems to rouse her very worst feelings and only to harden her. She is not hardened now, poor little soul, she is perfectly humble. ”

“ Hoodie looked up with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Peoples always calls each other 'dear' whenever they doesn't like each other," she remarked.
Maudie flashed round upon her.
"That isn't true. I do like Duke—don't I, Duke? And Hec too—don't I love you dearly, Hec and Duke?"
The two little boys clambered down from their chairs, by slow and ponderous degrees, and a hugging match of the three ensued.
"Children, children," cried Martin, "you know it's against the rules for you to get down from your chairs at tea. Miss Maudie, dear, you shouldn't encourage it." ”

“ They lived all alone in the star, and all day they stayed asleep like we do all night, but all night they were awake like we are all day, 'cos you see all day the star was shut up—like a shop, you know, only with curtains all round—all the stars are shut up like that all day, you know, and at night the moon wakes up and sends round to draw the curtains, and all the stars come out, rubbing their eyes."
"They hasn't any hands—how can they rub their eyes?" objected Duke.
"You silly boy," said Hoodie, very sharply. "How do you know? You've never been in the stars." ”

“ For He loves us just the same—better than if He did what we ask, for He knows that sometimes what we ask wouldn't be good for us. I don't think you understand that, Hoodie dear. You think when your mother, or Martin perhaps, doesn't do all at once what you ask, that it is because they don't love you. You mustn't feel that way, dear, either about your friends here, or about God, your best friend of all."
Hoodie looked up, rather puzzled. Magdalen feared she had not understood what she said, and almost regretted having said it. ”

“ Let's go and gather some flowers, Miss Hoodie, and make a little nosegay for you to send in to Miss Maudie."
But Hoodie shook her head, and she had a look in her face which made Lucy wish she had not told her what she had, though never doubting but that the child already knew it.
"Maudie wouldn't care for any flowers from me. Nobody will ever love me at all now," she said. "It was me that made Maudie ill. Oh, I do wish God had made me ill instead of Maudie, for everybody loves her, and nobody loves me." ”

“ Hoodie forgot all her troubles in the pleasure of showing off her pets, and greatly distinguished herself by the cleverness with which she caught them and brought them up, one after the other, to be admired.
"Isn't they sweet?" she said, ecstatically; "when I'm big, I'll have a house with lots and lots of cocks and hens."
"I thought you were going to live in a cottage, like Red Riding Hood's grandmother, when you're big?" said Maudie, thoughtlessly. ”

“ Day by day she learned new ways in which even she, a little simple child, might help and comfort and cheer those about her—she lost the old sore feeling of being nothing but a trouble and a worry, an "alvays naughty" Hoodie, and never again was any one tempted to say that among the fairies invited to baby Julian's christening, those of sweet temper and unselfishness had been forgotten.
They are grown-up now—much more than grown-up. If you met them in the street, if they came to call on your mother some day, you would not guess they were quiet little Maudie and queer-tempered Hoodie. ”