Таинственный сад

XI. The Nest Of The Missel Thrush

           

           “There!”hesaidexultantly.“Itoldtheeso.There’sgreeninthatwoodyet.Lookatit.”

           Marywasdownonherkneesbeforehespoke,gazingwithallhermight.

           “Whenitlooksabitgreenishan’juicylikethat,it’swick,”heexplained.“Whenth’insideisdryan’breakseasy,likethisherepieceI’vecutoff,it’sdonefor.There’sabigroothereasallthislivewoodsprungoutof,an’ifth’oldwood’scutoffan’it’sduground,andtookcareofthere’llbe—”hestoppedandliftedhisfacetolookupattheclimbingandhangingspraysabovehim—“there’llbeafountaino’rosesherethissummer.”

           Theywentfrombushtobushandfromtreetotree.Hewasverystrongandcleverwithhisknifeandknewhowtocutthedryanddeadwoodaway,andcouldtellwhenanunpromisingboughortwighadstillgreenlifeinit.InthecourseofhalfanhourMarythoughtshecouldtelltoo,andwhenhecutthroughalifeless-lookingbranchshewouldcryoutjoyfullyunderherbreathwhenshecaughtsightoftheleastshadeofmoistgreen.Thespade,andhoe,andforkwereveryuseful.Heshowedherhowtousetheforkwhilehedugaboutrootswiththespadeandstirredtheearthandlettheairin.

           Theywereworkingindustriouslyroundoneofthebiggeststandardroseswhenhecaughtsightofsomethingwhichmadehimutteranexclamationofsurprise.

           “Why!”hecried,pointingtothegrassafewfeetaway.“Whodidthatthere?”

           ItwasoneofMary’sownlittleclearingsroundthepalegreenpoints.

           “Ididit,”saidMary.

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