Таинственный сад
XXI. Ben Weatherstaff
“Iwonderifweshallseetherobin?”saidColin.
“Tha’llseehimoftenenowafterabit,”answeredDickon.“Whenth’eggshatchesoutth’littlechaphe’llbekep’sobusyit’llmakehisheadswim.Tha’llseehimflyin’backwardan’for’ardcarryin’wormsnighasbigashimsel’an’thatmuchnoisegoin’oninth’nestwhenhegetsthereasfairflustershimsoashescarceknowswhichbigmouthtodropth’firstpiecein.An’gapin’beaksan’squawksoneveryside.Mothersaysaswhensheseesth’workarobinhastokeepthemgapin’beaksfilled,shefeelslikeshewasaladywithnothin’todo.Shesaysshe’sseenth’littlechapswhenitseemedliketh’sweatmustbedroppin’off’em,thoughfolkcan’tseeit.”
Thismadethemgigglesodelightedlythattheywereobligedtocovertheirmouthswiththeirhands,rememberingthattheymustnotbeheard.Colinhadbeeninstructedastothelawofwhispersandlowvoicesseveraldaysbefore.Helikedthemysteriousnessofitanddidhisbest,butinthemidstofexcitedenjoymentitisratherdifficultnevertolaughaboveawhisper.
Everymomentoftheafternoonwasfullofnewthingsandeveryhourthesunshinegrewmoregolden.ThewheeledchairhadbeendrawnbackunderthecanopyandDickonhadsatdownonthegrassandhadjustdrawnouthispipewhenColinsawsomethinghehadnothadtimetonoticebefore.
“That’saveryoldtreeoverthere,isn’tit?”hesaid.
DickonlookedacrossthegrassatthetreeandMarylookedandtherewasabriefmomentofstillness.
