Таинственный сад
XI. The Nest Of The Missel Thrush
“There!”hesaidexultantly.“Itoldtheeso.There’sgreeninthatwoodyet.Lookatit.”
Marywasdownonherkneesbeforehespoke,gazingwithallhermight.
“Whenitlooksabitgreenishan’juicylikethat,it’swick,”heexplained.“Whenth’insideisdryan’breakseasy,likethisherepieceI’vecutoff,it’sdonefor.There’sabigroothereasallthislivewoodsprungoutof,an’ifth’oldwood’scutoffan’it’sduground,andtookcareofthere’llbe—”hestoppedandliftedhisfacetolookupattheclimbingandhangingspraysabovehim—“there’llbeafountaino’rosesherethissummer.”
Theywentfrombushtobushandfromtreetotree.Hewasverystrongandcleverwithhisknifeandknewhowtocutthedryanddeadwoodaway,andcouldtellwhenanunpromisingboughortwighadstillgreenlifeinit.InthecourseofhalfanhourMarythoughtshecouldtelltoo,andwhenhecutthroughalifeless-lookingbranchshewouldcryoutjoyfullyunderherbreathwhenshecaughtsightoftheleastshadeofmoistgreen.Thespade,andhoe,andforkwereveryuseful.Heshowedherhowtousetheforkwhilehedugaboutrootswiththespadeandstirredtheearthandlettheairin.
Theywereworkingindustriouslyroundoneofthebiggeststandardroseswhenhecaughtsightofsomethingwhichmadehimutteranexclamationofsurprise.
“Why!”hecried,pointingtothegrassafewfeetaway.“Whodidthatthere?”
ItwasoneofMary’sownlittleclearingsroundthepalegreenpoints.
“Ididit,”saidMary.
