and hopped about so close to her feet, and put
his head on one side and looked at her so slyly
that she asked Ben Weatherstaff a question.

"Do you think he remembers me?" she said.

"Remembers thee!" said Weatherstaff indignantly.
"He knows every cabbage stump in th'
gardens, let alone th' people. He's never seen a
little wench here before, an' he's bent on findin'
out all about thee. Tha's no need to try to hide
anything from _him."_

"Are things stirring down below in the dark
in that garden where he lives?" Mary inquired.

"What garden?" grunted Weatherstaff, becoming
surly again.

"The one where the old rose-trees are." She
could not help asking, because she wanted so much
to know. "Are all the flowers dead, or do some
of them come again in the summer? Are there
ever any roses?"

"Ask him," said Ben Weatherstaff, hunching
his shoulders toward the robin. "He's the only
one as knows. No one else has seen inside it for
ten year'."

Ten years was a long time, Mary thought.
She had been born ten years ago.

She walked away, slowly thinking. She had
begun to like the garden just as she had begun to
like the robin and Dickon and Martha's mother.

[[81]]

p080 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p081w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p082

v?