wall he was too weak to fly back for a few days
an' we got friendly. When he went over th' wall
again th' rest of th' brood was gone an' he was
lonely an' he come back to me."

"What kind of a bird is he?" Mary asked.

"Doesn't tha' know? He's a robin redbreast
an' they're th' friendliest, curiousest birds alive.
They're almost as friendly as dogs -- if you know
how to get on with 'em. Watch him peckin' about
there an' lookin' round 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.

[[49]]

p048 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p049w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p050

v?