Таємничий сад
V. The Cry In The Corridor
AfewdaysaftershehadtalkedtoBenWeatherstaff,Marystoppedtonoticethisandwonderedwhyitwasso.Shehadjustpausedandwaslookingupatalongsprayofivyswinginginthewindwhenshesawagleamofscarletandheardabrilliantchirp,andthere,onthetopofthewall,perchedBenWeatherstaff’srobinredbreast,tiltingforwardtolookatherwithhissmallheadononeside.
“Oh!”shecriedout,“isityou—isityou?”Anditdidnotseematallqueertoherthatshespoketohimasifsheweresurethathewouldunderstandandanswerher.
Hedidanswer.Hetwitteredandchirpedandhoppedalongthewallasifheweretellingherallsortsofthings.ItseemedtoMistressMaryasifsheunderstoodhim,too,thoughhewasnotspeakinginwords.Itwasasifhesaid:
“Goodmorning!Isn’tthewindnice?Isn’tthesunnice?Isn’teverythingnice?Letusbothchirpandhopandtwitter.Comeon!Comeon!”
Marybegantolaugh,andashehoppedandtooklittleflightsalongthewallsheranafterhim.Poorlittlethin,sallow,uglyMary—sheactuallylookedalmostprettyforamoment.
“Ilikeyou!Ilikeyou!”shecriedout,patteringdownthewalk;andshechirpedandtriedtowhistle,whichlastshedidnotknowhowtodointheleast.Buttherobinseemedtobequitesatisfiedandchirpedandwhistledbackather.Atlasthespreadhiswingsandmadeadartingflighttothetopofatree,whereheperchedandsangloudly.
ThatremindedMaryofthefirsttimeshehadseenhim.Hehadbeenswingingonatree-topthenandshehadbeenstandingintheorchard.
