at us now an again. He knows we re talkin about him.
It was the queerest thing in the world to see the old fellow. He looked
at the plump little scarlet-waistcoated bird as if he were both proud
and fond of him.
He s a conceited one, he chuckled. He likes to hear folk talk about
him. An curious bless me, there never was his like for curiosity an
meddlin . He s always comin to see what I m plantin . He knows all th
things Mester Craven never troubles hissel to find out. He s th head
gardener, he is.
The robin hopped about busily pecking the soil and now and then stopped
and looked at them a little. Mary thought his black dewdrop eyes gazed
at her with great curiosity. It really seemed as if he were finding out
all about her. The queer feeling in her heart increased.
Where did the rest of the brood fly to? she asked.
There s no knowin . The old ones turn em out o their nest an make
em fly an they re scattered before you know it. This one was a
knowin one an he knew he was lonely.
Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked at him very
hard.
I m lonely, she said.
She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her
feel sour and cross. She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at
her and she looked at the robin.
The old gardener pushed his cap back on his bald head and stared at her
a minute.
Art tha th little wench from India? he asked.
Mary nodded.
Then no wonder tha rt lonely. Tha lt be lonlier before tha s done, he
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