I think it s about a month, she answered.
Tha s beginnin to do Misselthwaite credit, he said. Tha s a bit
fatter than tha was an tha s not quite so yeller. Tha looked like a
young plucked crow when tha first came into this garden. Thinks I to
myself I never set eyes on an uglier, sourer faced young un.
Mary was not vain and as she had never thought much of her looks she
was not greatly disturbed.
I know I m fatter, she said. My stockings are getting tighter. They
used to make wrinkles. There s the robin, Ben Weatherstaff.
There, indeed, was the robin, and she thought he looked nicer than
ever. His red waistcoat was as glossy as satin and he flirted his wings
and tail and tilted his head and hopped about with all sorts of lively
graces. He seemed determined to make Ben Weatherstaff admire him. But
Ben was sarcastic.
Aye, there tha art! he said. Tha can put up with me for a bit
sometimes when tha s got no one better. Tha s been reddenin up thy
waistcoat an polishin thy feathers this two weeks. I know what tha s
up to. Tha s courtin some bold young madam somewhere tellin thy lies
to her about bein th finest cock robin on Missel Moor an ready to
fight all th rest of em.
Oh! look at him! exclaimed Mary.
The robin was evidently in a fascinating, bold mood. He hopped closer
and closer and looked at Ben Weatherstaff more and more engagingly. He
flew on to the nearest currant bush and tilted his head and sang a
little song right at him.
Tha thinks tha ll get over me by doin that, said Ben, wrinkling his
face up in such a way that Mary felt sure he was trying not to look
pleased. Tha thinks no one can stand out against thee that s what
tha thinks.
The robin spread his wings Mary could scarcely believe her eyes. He
flew right up to the handle of Ben Weatherstaff s spade and alighted on
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