“Aye,” said Dickon.  “An’ it’ll be greener and greener till th’ gray’s all gone.  Can tha’ guess what I was thinkin’?”

“I know it was something nice,” said Mary eagerly.  “I believe it was something about Colin.”

“I was thinkin’ that if he was out here he wouldn’t be watchin’ for lumps to grow on his back; he’d be watchin’ for buds to break on th’ rose-bushes, an’ he’d likely be healthier,” explained Dickon.  “I was wonderin’ if us could ever get him in th’ humor to come out here an’ lie under th’ trees in his carriage.”

“I’ve been wondering that myself.  I’ve thought of it almost every time I’ve talked to him,” said Mary.  “I’ve wondered if he could keep a secret and I’ve wondered if we could bring him here without any one seeing us.  I thought perhaps you could push his carriage.  The doctor said he must have fresh air and if he wants us to take him out no one dare disobey him.  He won’t go out for other people and perhaps they will be glad if he will go out with us.  He could order the gardeners to keep away so they wouldn’t find out.”

Dickon was thinking very hard as he scratched Captain’s back.

“It’d be good for him, I’ll warrant,” he said.  “Us’d not be thinkin’ he’d better never been born.  Us’d be just two children watchin’ a garden grow, an’ he’d be another.  Two lads an’ a little lass just lookin’ on at th’ springtime.  I warrant it’d be better than doctor’s stuff.”

“He’s been lying in his room so long and he’s always been so afraid of his back that it has made him queer,” said Mary.  “He knows a good many things out of books but he doesn’t know anything else.  He says he has been too ill to notice things and he hates going out of doors and hates gardens and gardeners.  But he likes to hear about this garden because it is a secret.  I daren’t tell him much but he said he wanted to see it.”

“Us’ll have him out here sometime for sure,” said Dickon.  “I could push his carriage well enough.  Has tha’ noticed how th’ robin an’ his mate has been workin’ while we’ve been sittin’ here?  Look at him perched on that branch wonderin’ where it’d be best to put that twig he’s got in his beak.”

He made one of his low whistling calls and the robin turned his head and looked at him inquiringly, still holding his twig.  Dickon spoke to him as Ben Weatherstaff did, but Dickon’s tone was one of friendly advice.

“Wheres’ever tha’ puts it,” he said, “it’ll be all right.  Tha’ knew how to build tha’ nest before tha’ came out o’ th’ egg.  Get on with thee, lad.  Tha’st got no time to lose.”

“Oh, I do like to hear you talk to him!” Mary said, laughing delightedly.  “Ben Weatherstaff scolds him and makes fun of him, and he hops about and looks as if he understood every word, and I know he likes it.  Ben Weatherstaff says he is so conceited he would rather have stones thrown at him than not be noticed.”

Dickon laughed too and went on talking.