you, whatever you did. She had never thought much about her looks, but
she wondered if she was as unattractive as Ben Weatherstaff and she also
wondered if she looked as sour as he had looked before the robin came.
She actually began to wonder also if she was "nasty tempered." She felt
uncomfortable.

Suddenly a clear rippling little sound broke out near her and she turned
round. She was standing a few feet from a young apple-tree and the robin
had flown on to one of its branches and had burst out into a scrap of a
song. Ben Weatherstaff laughed outright.

"What did he do that for?" asked Mary.

"He's made up his mind to make friends with thee," replied Ben. "Dang me
if he hasn't took a fancy to thee."

"To me?" said Mary, and she moved toward the little tree softly and
looked up.

"Would you make friends with me?" she said to the robin just as if she
was speaking to a person. "Would you?" And she did not say it either in
her hard little voice or in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so
soft and eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprised as she
had been when she heard him whistle.

"Why," he cried out, "tha' said that as nice an' human as if tha' was a
real child instead of a sharp old woman. Tha' said it almost like Dickon
talks to his wild things on th' moor."

"Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round rather in a hurry.