It really seemed as if he were finding out all about her.
The queer feeling in her heart increased. "Where did the
rest of the brood fly to?" she asked.

"There's no knowin'. The old ones turn 'em out o' their nest an'
make 'em fly an' they're scattered before you know it.
This one was a knowin' one an, he knew he was lonely."

Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked
at him very hard.

"I'm lonely," she said.

She had not known before that this was one of the things
which made her feel sour and cross. She seemed to find
it out when the robin looked at her and she looked
at the robin.

The old gardener pushed his cap back on his bald head
and stared at her a minute.

"Art tha' th' little wench from India?" he asked.

Mary nodded.

"Then no wonder tha'rt lonely. Tha'lt be lonlier before
tha's done," he said.

He began to dig again, driving his spade deep into
the rich black garden soil while the robin hopped