the top of it. Then the old man s face wrinkled itself slowly into a
new expression. He stood still as if he were afraid to breathe as if he
would not have stirred for the world, lest his robin should start away.
He spoke quite in a whisper.
Well, I m danged! he said as softly as if he were saying something
quite different. Tha does know how to get at a chap tha does! Tha s
fair unearthly, tha s so knowin .
And he stood without stirring almost without drawing his breath until
the robin gave another flirt to his wings and flew away. Then he stood
looking at the handle of the spade as if there might be Magic in it,
and then he began to dig again and said nothing for several minutes.
But because he kept breaking into a slow grin now and then, Mary was
not afraid to talk to him.
Have you a garden of your own? she asked.
No. I m bachelder an lodge with Martin at th gate.
If you had one, said Mary, what would you plant?
Cabbages an taters an onions.
But if you wanted to make a flower garden, persisted Mary, what
would you plant?
Bulbs an sweet-smellin things but mostly roses.
Mary s face lighted up.
Do you like roses? she said.
Ben Weatherstaff rooted up a weed and threw it aside before he
answered.
Well, yes, I do. I was learned that by a young lady I was gardener to.
She had a lot in a place she was fond of, an she loved em like they
was children or robins. I ve seen her bend over an kiss em. He
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