XI. The Nest Of The Missel Thrush

           Fortwoorthreeminuteshestoodlookingroundhim,whileMarywatchedhim,andthenhebegantowalkaboutsoftly,evenmorelightlythanMaryhadwalkedthefirsttimeshehadfoundherselfinsidethefourwalls.Hiseyesseemedtobetakingineverything—thegraytreeswiththegraycreepersclimbingoverthemandhangingfromtheirbranches,thetangleonthewallsandamongthegrass,theevergreenalcoveswiththestoneseatsandtallflowerurnsstandinginthem.

           “IneverthoughtI’dseethisplace,”hesaidatlast,inawhisper.

           “Didyouknowaboutit?”askedMary.

           Shehadspokenaloudandhemadeasigntoher.

           “Wemusttalklow,”hesaid,“orsomeone’llhearusan’wonderwhat’stodoinhere.”

           “Oh!Iforgot!”saidMary,feelingfrightenedandputtingherhandquicklyagainsthermouth.“Didyouknowaboutthegarden?”sheaskedagainwhenshehadrecoveredherself.

           Dickonnodded.

           “Marthatoldmetherewasoneasnooneeverwentinside,”heanswered.“Ususedtowonderwhatitwaslike.”

           Hestoppedandlookedroundatthelovelygraytangleabouthim,andhisroundeyeslookedqueerlyhappy.

           “Eh!thenestsas’llbeherecomespringtime,”hesaid.“It’dbeth’safestnestin’placeinEngland.Noonenevercomin’nearan’tangleso’treesan’rosestobuildin.Iwonderallth’birdsonth’moordon’tbuildhere.”

           MistressMaryputherhandonhisarmagainwithoutknowingit.

           “Willthereberoses?”shewhispered.“Canyoutell?Ithoughtperhapstheywerealldead.”

           “Eh!No!Notthem—notallof’em!”heanswered.