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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
about
very
busily
employed
.
“
What
is
your
name
?
”
Mary
inquired
.
