If she had been an affectionate child, who had been used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though she was "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" she was desolate, and the bright-breasted little bird brought a look into her sour little face which was almost a smile.

She listened to him until he flew away.

He was not like an Indian bird and she liked him and wondered if she should ever see him again.

Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew all about it.
Perhaps it was because she had nothing whatever to do that she thought so much of the deserted garden.

She was curious about it and wanted to see what it was like.