did not even answer Mary's questions except by
a grunt, but this morning he said more than usual.
He stood up and rested one hobnailed boot on the
top of his spade while he looked her over.

"How long has tha' been here?" he jerked
out.

"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

[[114]]

p113 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p114w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p115

v?