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“
Where
’
s
that
robin
as
is
callin
’
us
?
”
he
said
.
The
chirp
came
from
a
thick
holly
bush
,
bright
with
scarlet
berries
,
and
Mary
thought
she
knew
whose
it
was
.
“
Is
it
really
calling
us
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Aye
,
”
said
Dickon
,
as
if
it
was
the
most
natural
thing
in
the
world
,
“
he
’
s
callin
’
someone
he
’
s
friends
with
.
That
’
s
same
as
sayin
’
‘
Here
I
am
.
Look
at
me
.
I
wants
a
bit
of
a
chat
.
’
There
he
is
in
the
bush
.
Whose
is
he
?
”
“
He
’
s
Ben
Weatherstaff
’
s
,
but
I
think
he
knows
me
a
little
,
”
answered
Mary
.
“
Aye
,
he
knows
thee
,
”
said
Dickon
in
his
low
voice
again
.
“
An
’
he
likes
thee
.
He
’
s
took
thee
on
.
He
’
ll
tell
me
all
about
thee
in
a
minute
.
”
He
moved
quite
close
to
the
bush
with
the
slow
movement
Mary
had
noticed
before
,
and
then
he
made
a
sound
almost
like
the
robin
’
s
own
twitter
.
The
robin
listened
a
few
seconds
,
intently
,
and
then
answered
quite
as
if
he
were
replying
to
a
question
.
“
Aye
,
he
’
s
a
friend
o
’
yours
,
”
chuckled
Dickon
.
“
Do
you
think
he
is
?
”
cried
Mary
eagerly
.
She
did
so
want
to
know
.
“
Do
you
think
he
really
likes
me
?
”
“
He
wouldn
’
t
come
near
thee
if
he
didn
’
t
,
”
answered
Dickon
.
“
Birds
is
rare
choosers
an
’
a
robin
can
flout
a
body
worse
than
a
man
.
See
,
he
’
s
making
up
to
thee
now
.
‘
Cannot
tha
’
see
a
chap
?
’
he
’
s
sayin
’
.
”
