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“
Tha
’
got
on
well
enough
with
that
this
mornin
’
,
didn
’
t
tha
’
?
”
said
Martha
.
“
It
tastes
nice
today
,
”
said
Mary
,
feeling
a
little
surprised
herself
.
“
It
’
s
th
’
air
of
th
’
moor
that
’
s
givin
’
thee
stomach
for
tha
’
victuals
,
”
answered
Martha
.
“
It
’
s
lucky
for
thee
that
tha
’
s
got
victuals
as
well
as
appetite
.
There
’
s
been
twelve
in
our
cottage
as
had
th
’
stomach
an
’
nothin
’
to
put
in
it
.
You
go
on
playin
’
you
out
o
’
doors
every
day
an
’
you
’
ll
get
some
flesh
on
your
bones
an
’
you
won
’
t
be
so
yeller
.
”
“
I
don
’
t
play
,
”
said
Mary
.
“
I
have
nothing
to
play
with
.
”
“
Nothin
’
to
play
with
!
”
exclaimed
Martha
.
“
Our
children
plays
with
sticks
and
stones
.
They
just
runs
about
an
’
shouts
an
’
looks
at
things
.
”
Mary
did
not
shout
,
but
she
looked
at
things
.
There
was
nothing
else
to
do
.
She
walked
round
and
round
the
gardens
and
wandered
about
the
paths
in
the
park
.
Sometimes
she
looked
for
Ben
Weatherstaff
,
but
though
several
times
she
saw
him
at
work
he
was
too
busy
to
look
at
her
or
was
too
surly
.
Once
when
she
was
walking
toward
him
he
picked
up
his
spade
and
turned
away
as
if
he
did
it
on
purpose
.
One
place
she
went
to
oftener
than
to
any
other
.
It
was
the
long
walk
outside
the
gardens
with
the
walls
round
them
.
There
were
bare
flower
-
beds
on
either
side
of
it
and
against
the
walls
ivy
grew
thickly
.
There
was
one
part
of
the
wall
where
the
creeping
dark
green
leaves
were
more
bushy
than
elsewhere
.
It
seemed
as
if
for
a
long
time
that
part
had
been
neglected
.
The
rest
of
it
had
been
clipped
and
made
to
look
neat
,
but
at
this
lower
end
of
the
walk
it
had
not
been
trimmed
at
all
.
A
few
days
after
she
had
talked
to
Ben
Weatherstaff
,
Mary
stopped
to
notice
this
and
wondered
why
it
was
so
.
She
had
just
paused
and
was
looking
up
at
a
long
spray
of
ivy
swinging
in
the
wind
when
she
saw
a
gleam
of
scarlet
and
heard
a
brilliant
chirp
,
and
there
,
on
the
top
of
the
wall
,
perched
Ben
Weatherstaff
’
s
robin
redbreast
,
tilting
forward
to
look
at
her
with
his
small
head
on
one
side
.
“
Oh
!
”
she
cried
out
,
“
is
it
you
—
is
it
you
?
”
And
it
did
not
seem
at
all
queer
to
her
that
she
spoke
to
him
as
if
she
were
sure
that
he
would
understand
and
answer
her
.
He
did
answer
.
He
twittered
and
chirped
and
hopped
along
the
wall
as
if
he
were
telling
her
all
sorts
of
things
.
It
seemed
to
Mistress
Mary
as
if
she
understood
him
,
too
,
though
he
was
not
speaking
in
words
.
It
was
as
if
he
said
:
“
Good
morning
!
Isn
’
t
the
wind
nice
?
Isn
’
t
the
sun
nice
?
Isn
’
t
everything
nice
?
Let
us
both
chirp
and
hop
and
twitter
.
Come
on
!
Come
on
!
”
