It is all different already, she said. The grass is greener and
things are sticking up everywhere and things are uncurling and green
buds of leaves are showing. This afternoon I am sure Dickon will come.
The long warm rain had done strange things to the herbaceous beds which
bordered the walk by the lower wall. There were things sprouting and
pushing out from the roots of clumps of plants and there were actually
here and there glimpses of royal purple and yellow unfurling among the
stems of crocuses. Six months before Mistress Mary would not have seen
how the world was waking up, but now she missed nothing.
When she had reached the place where the door hid itself under the ivy,
she was startled by a curious loud sound. It was the caw caw of a crow
and it came from the top of the wall, and when she looked up, there sat
a big glossy-plumaged blue-black bird, looking down at her very wisely
indeed. She had never seen a crow so close before and he made her a
little nervous, but the next moment he spread his wings and flapped
away across the garden. She hoped he was not going to stay inside and
she pushed the door open wondering if he would. When she got fairly
into the garden she saw that he probably did intend to stay because he
had alighted on a dwarf apple-tree and under the apple-tree was lying a
little reddish animal with a Bushy tail, and both of them were watching
the stooping body and rust-red head of Dickon, who was kneeling on the
grass working hard.
Mary flew across the grass to him.
Oh, Dickon! Dickon! she cried out. How could you get here so early!
How could you! The sun has only just got up!
He got up himself, laughing and glowing, and tousled; his eyes like a
bit of the sky.
Eh! he said. I was up long before him. How could I have stayed abed!
Th world s all fair begun again this mornin , it has. An it s workin
an hummin an scratchin an pipin an nest-buildin an breathin
out scents, till you ve got to be out on it stead o lyin on your
back. When th sun did jump up, th moor went mad for joy, an I was in
the midst of th heather, an I run like mad myself, shoutin an
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