Таємничий сад
X. Dickon
“Tha’canputupwithmeforabitsometimeswhentha’sgotnoonebetter.Tha’sbeenreddenin’upthywaistcoatan’polishin’thyfeathersthistwoweeks.Iknowwhattha’supto.Tha’scourtin’someboldyoungmadamsomewheretellin’thyliestoheraboutbein’th’finestcockrobinonMisselMooran’readytofightallth’restof’em.”
“Oh!lookathim!”exclaimedMary.
Therobinwasevidentlyinafascinating,boldmood.HehoppedcloserandcloserandlookedatBenWeatherstaffmoreandmoreengagingly.Heflewontothenearestcurrantbushandtiltedhisheadandsangalittlesongrightathim.
“Tha’thinkstha’llgetovermebydoin’that,”saidBen,wrinklinghisfaceupinsuchawaythatMaryfeltsurehewastryingnottolookpleased.“Tha’thinksnoonecanstandoutagainstthee—that’swhattha’thinks.”
Therobinspreadhiswings—Marycouldscarcelybelievehereyes.HeflewrightuptothehandleofBenWeatherstaff’sspadeandalightedonthetopofit.Thentheoldman’sfacewrinkleditselfslowlyintoanewexpression.Hestoodstillasifhewereafraidtobreathe—asifhewouldnothavestirredfortheworld,lesthisrobinshouldstartaway.Hespokequiteinawhisper.
“Well,I’mdanged!”hesaidassoftlyasifheweresayingsomethingquitedifferent.“Tha’doesknowhowtogetatachap—tha’does!Tha’sfairunearthly,tha’ssoknowin’.”
Andhestoodwithoutstirring—almostwithoutdrawinghisbreath—untiltherobingaveanotherflirttohiswingsandflewaway.
