same as poppies will. Them as ll come up an bloom if you just whistle
to em, them s th nicest of all.
He stopped and turned his head quickly, his poppy-cheeked face lighting
up.
Where s that robin as is callin us? he said.
The chirp came from a thick holly bush, bright with scarlet berries,
and Mary thought she knew whose it was.
Is it really calling us? she asked.
Aye, said Dickon, as if it was the most natural thing in the world,
he s callin someone he s friends with. That s same as sayin Here I
am. Look at me. I wants a bit of a chat. There he is in the bush.
Whose is he?
He s Ben Weatherstaff s, but I think he knows me a little, answered
Mary.
Aye, he knows thee, said Dickon in his low voice again. An he likes
thee. He s took thee on. He ll tell me all about thee in a minute.
He moved quite close to the bush with the slow movement Mary had
noticed before, and then he made a sound almost like the robin s own
twitter. The robin listened a few seconds, intently, and then answered
quite as if he were replying to a question.
Aye, he s a friend o yours, chuckled Dickon.
Do you think he is? cried Mary eagerly. She did so want to know. Do
you think he really likes me?
He wouldn t come near thee if he didn t, answered Dickon. Birds is
rare choosers an a robin can flout a body worse than a man. See, he s
making up to thee now. Cannot tha see a chap? he s sayin .
And it really seemed as if it must be true. He so sidled and twittered
and tilted as he hopped on his bush.
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