1 She thought of the robin as one of the people.
2 Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked at him very hard.
3 "Ask him," said Ben Weatherstaff, hunching his shoulders toward the robin.
4 But the robin seemed to be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.
5 She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at her and she looked at the robin.
6 The robin hopped about busily pecking the soil and now and then stopped and looked at them a little.
7 She had begun to like the garden just as she had begun to like the robin and Dickon and Martha's mother.
8 Very soon she heard the soft rustling flight of wings again and she knew at once that the robin had come again.
9 But just that moment the robin, who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings, spread them and flew away.
10 He began to dig again, driving his spade deep into the rich black garden soil while the robin hopped about very busily employed.
11 She was standing a few feet from a young apple-tree and the robin had flown on to one of its branches and had burst out into a scrap of a song.
12 "Ben Weatherstaff," he answered, and then he added with a surly chuckle, "I'm lonely mysel except when he's with me," and he jerked his thumb toward the robin.
13 She thought of the robin and of the way he seemed to sing his song at her, and as she remembered the tree-top he perched on she stopped rather suddenly on the path.
14 She had never thought much about her looks, but she wondered if she was as unattractive as Ben Weatherstaff and she also wondered if she looked as sour as he had looked before the robin came.
15 She had felt as if she had understood a robin and that he had understood her; she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm; she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life; and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one.
16 Then she ran down the path through the other door and then into the orchard, and when she stood and looked up there was the tree on the other side of the wall, and there was the robin just finishing his song and, beginning to preen his feathers with his beak.
17 She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivy swinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet and heard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall, forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast, tilting forward to look at her with his small head on one side.
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