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XI. The Nest Of The Missel Thrush
Whydoestha’want’em?”
ThenMarytoldhimaboutBasilandhisbrothersandsistersinIndiaandofhowshehadhatedthemandoftheircallingher“MistressMaryQuiteContrary.”
“Theyusedtodanceroundandsingatme.Theysang—
‘MistressMary,quitecontrary,
Howdoesyourgardengrow?
Withsilverbells,andcockleshells,
Andmarigoldsallinarow.’
Ijustremembereditanditmademewonderiftherewerereallyflowerslikesilverbells.”
Shefrownedalittleandgavehertrowelaratherspitefuldigintotheearth.
“Iwasn’tascontraryastheywere.”
ButDickonlaughed.
“Eh!”hesaid,andashecrumbledtherichblacksoilshesawhewassniffingupthescentofit.“Theredoesn’tseemtobenoneedfornoonetobecontrarywhenthere’sflowersan’suchlike,an’suchlotso’friendlywildthingsrunnin’aboutmakin’homesforthemselves,orbuildin’nestsan’singin’an’whistlin’,doesthere?”
Mary,kneelingbyhimholdingtheseeds,lookedathimandstoppedfrowning.
“Dickon,”shesaid,“youareasniceasMarthasaidyouwere.Ilikeyou,andyoumakethefifthperson.IneverthoughtIshouldlikefivepeople.”
DickonsatuponhisheelsasMarthadidwhenshewaspolishingthegrate.Hedidlookfunnyanddelightful,Marythought,withhisroundblueeyesandredcheeksandhappylookingturned-upnose.
“Onlyfivefolkastha’likes?”hesaid.“Whoisth’otherfour?”
“YourmotherandMartha,”Marycheckedthemoffonherfingers,“andtherobinandBenWeatherstaff.