Not for
mines of rubies would I have lifted a finger.
I think he stayed near me altogether about half an hour. Then he
disappeared. Where or even exactly when I did not know. One moment he
was hopping among some of the rose bushes and then he was gone.
This, in fact, was his little mysterious way from first to last. Through
all the months of our delicious intimacy he never let me know where he
lived. I knew it was in the rose-garden--but that was all. His
extraordinary freedom from timorousness was something to think over.
After reflecting upon him a good deal I thought I had reached an
explanation. He had been born in the rose-garden and being of a home-
loving nature he had declined to follow the rest of his family when they
had made their first flight over the wall into the rose-walk or over the
laurel hedge into the pheasant cover behind. He had stayed in the rose
world and then had felt lonely. Without father or mother or sisters or
brothers desolateness of spirit fell upon him. He saw a creature--I
insist on believing that he thought it another order of robin--and
approached to see what it would say.
Its whole bearing was confidence inspiring. It made softly alluring--if
unexplainable--sounds. He felt its friendliness and affection. It was
curious to look at and far too large for any ordinary nest.
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