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“
Do
you
think
he
remembers
me
?
”
she
said
.
“
Remembers
thee
!
”
said
Weatherstaff
indignantly
.
“
He
knows
every
cabbage
stump
in
th
’
gardens
,
let
alone
th
’
people
.
He
’
s
never
seen
a
little
wench
here
before
,
an
’
he
’
s
bent
on
findin
’
out
all
about
thee
.
Tha
’
s
no
need
to
try
to
hide
anything
from
him
.
”
“
Are
things
stirring
down
below
in
the
dark
in
that
garden
where
he
lives
?
”
Mary
inquired
.
“
What
garden
?
”
grunted
Weatherstaff
,
becoming
surly
again
.
“
The
one
where
the
old
rose
-
trees
are
.
”
She
could
not
help
asking
,
because
she
wanted
so
much
to
know
.
“
Are
all
the
flowers
dead
,
or
do
some
of
them
come
again
in
the
summer
?
Are
there
ever
any
roses
?
”
“
Ask
him
,
”
said
Ben
Weatherstaff
,
hunching
his
shoulders
toward
the
robin
.
“
He
’
s
the
only
one
as
knows
.
No
one
else
has
seen
inside
it
for
ten
year
’
.
”
Ten
years
was
a
long
time
,
Mary
thought
.
She
had
been
born
ten
years
ago
.
She
walked
away
,
slowly
thinking
.
She
had
begun
to
like
the
garden
just
as
she
had
begun
to
like
the
robin
and
Dickon
and
Martha
’
s
mother
.
She
was
beginning
to
like
Martha
,
too
.
That
seemed
a
good
many
people
to
like
—
when
you
were
not
used
to
liking
.
She
thought
of
the
robin
as
one
of
the
people
.
She
went
to
her
walk
outside
the
long
,
ivy
-
covered
wall
over
which
she
could
see
the
tree
-
tops
;
and
the
second
time
she
walked
up
and
down
the
most
interesting
and
exciting
thing
happened
to
her
,
and
it
was
all
through
Ben
Weatherstaff
’
s
robin
.
She
heard
a
chirp
and
a
twitter
,
and
when
she
looked
at
the
bare
flower
-
bed
at
her
left
side
there
he
was
hopping
about
and
pretending
to
peck
things
out
of
the
earth
to
persuade
her
that
he
had
not
followed
her
.
But
she
knew
he
had
followed
her
and
the
surprise
so
filled
her
with
delight
that
she
almost
trembled
a
little
.
