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.

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