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When she got fairly into the garden she saw that he probably did intend to stay because he had alighted on a dwarf apple-tree and under the apple-tree was lying a little reddish animal with a Bushy tail, and both of them were watching the stooping body and rust-red head of Dickon, who was kneeling on the grass working hard. Mary flew across the grass to him. "Oh, Dickon! Dickon!" she cried out.
Mary was rather frightened until she heard Colin's answer. "Nothing really ails them," he said, "but they are so thin and weak. They shake so that I'm afraid to try to stand on them." Both Mary and Dickon drew a relieved breath. "When tha' stops bein' afraid tha'lt stand on 'em," Dickon said with renewed cheer. "An' tha'lt stop bein' afraid in a bit."
I pray you to squire the Lady Alianora's Grace. His Highness will ride single, as shall be more to his pleasure. Now, Dickon, I am right sorry to trouble thee, but mefeareth I must needs set thee to squire the Lady Anne." Semi-sarcastic speeches of this kind were usually Edward's nearest approach to fun.
Dickon had bought penny packages of flower seeds now and then and sown bright sweet-scented things among gooseberry bushes and even cabbages and he grew borders of mignonette and pinks and pansies and things whose seeds he could save year after year or whose roots would bloom each spring and spread in time into fine clumps.
To speak robin to a robin is like speaking French to a Frenchman. Dickon always spoke it to the robin himself, so the queer gibberish he used when he spoke to humans did not matter in the least. The robin thought he spoke this gibberish to them because they were not intelligent enough to understand feathered speech. His movements also were robin.
The humming of the bees in the blossoms mingled with the chanting voice and drowsily melted into a doze. Dickon sat cross-legged with his rabbit asleep on his arm and a hand resting on the lamb's back. Soot had pushed away a squirrel and huddled close to him on his shoulder, the gray film dropped over his eyes. At last Colin stopped. "Now I am going to walk round the garden," he announced.
Gossip, ye speak well, though I can never think upon your name; but ye speak very well. May the Good Hope ride easy! Amen!" "Friend Dickon," resumed Lawless, addressing his commander, "ye have certain matters on hand, unless I err? Well, prithee be about them incontinently.
He's got no time for visitin' an' gossipin'. Us must keep still a bit an' try to look as if us was grass an' trees an' bushes. Then when he's got used to seein' us I'll chirp a bit an' he'll know us'll not be in his way." Mistress Mary was not at all sure that she knew, as Dickon seemed to, how to try to look like grass and trees and bushes.
'Oh, Mary, what have I seen! I whispered, recovering from the fascination that held my gaze fast to the topmost rounds of the ladder, that disappeared in the darkness above the open door in the loft. 'Come, Mary come away. At the same instant appeared the swarthy, sullen face of Dickon Hawkes in the shadow of the aperture.
Nut and Shell chattered about it from a cherry-tree. "It's planted!" said Colin at last. "And the sun is only slipping over the edge. Help me up, Dickon. I want to be standing when it goes. That's part of the Magic."
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