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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.

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