masters, and be merely commanded by them to
do things.

"Tha'rt like th' robin," he said to her one morning when he lifted his
head and saw her standing by him. "I never knows when I shall see thee
or which side tha'll come from."

"He's friends with me now," said Mary.

"That's like him," snapped Ben Weatherstaff. "Makin' up to th' women
folk just for vanity an' flightiness. There's nothin' he wouldn't do for
th' sake o' showin' off an' flirtin' his tail-feathers. He's as full o'
pride as an egg's full o' meat."

He very seldom talked much and sometimes did not even answer Mary's
questions except by a grunt, but this morning he said more than usual.
He stood up and rested one hobnailed boot on the top of his spade while
he looked her over.

"How long has tha' been here?" he jerked out.

"I think it's about a month," she answered.

"Tha's beginnin' to do Misselthwaite credit," he said. "Tha's a bit
fatter than tha' was an' tha's not quite so yeller. Tha' looked like a
young plucked crow when tha' first came into this garden. Thinks I to
myself I never set eyes on an uglier, sourer faced young 'un."

Mary was not vain and as she had never thought much of her looks she was
not greatly disturbed.

"I know I'm fatter," she said. "My stockings are getting tighter. They
used to make wrinkles. There's the robin, Ben Weatherstaff."

There, indeed, was the robin, and she thought he looked nicer than ever.
His red waistcoat was as glossy as satin and he flirted his wings and
tail and tilted his head and hopped about with all sorts of lively
graces. He seemed determined to make Ben Weatherstaff admire him. But
Ben was sarcastic.

"Aye, there tha' art!" he said. "Tha' can put up with me for a bit
sometimes when tha's got no one better. Tha's been reddinin' up thy
waistcoat an' polishin' thy feathers this two weeks. I know what tha's
up to. Tha's courtin' some bold young madam somewhere, tellin' thy lies
to her about bein' th' finest cock robin on Missel Moor an' ready to
fight all th' rest of 'em."

"Oh! look at him!" exclaimed Mary.

The robin was evidently in a fascinating, bold mood. He hopped closer
and closer and looked at Ben Weatherstaff more and more engagingly. He
flew on to the nearest currant bush and tilted his head and sang a
little song right at him.

"Tha' thinks tha'll get over me by doin' that," said Ben, wrinkling his
face up in such a way that Mary felt sure he was trying not to look
pleased. "