She had never thought much about her looks, but she wondered if she was as unattractive as Ben Weatherstaff and she also wondered if she looked as sour as he had looked before the robin came.
She actually began to wonder also if she was "nasty tempered." She felt uncomfortable.
Suddenly a clear rippling little sound broke out near her and she turned round.

She was standing a few feet from a young apple-tree and the robin had flown on to one of its branches and had burst out into a scrap of a song.

Ben Weatherstaff laughed outright.
"What did he do that for ?" asked Mary.
"He's made up his mind to make friends with thee," replied Ben.

"Dang me if he hasn't took a fancy to thee." "To me ?" said Mary, and she moved toward the little tree softly and looked up.
"Would you make friends with me ?" she said to the robin just as if she was speaking to a person.

"Would you ?" And she did not say it either in her hard little voice or in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so soft and eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprised as she had been when she heard him whistle.
"Why," he cried out, "tha' said that as nice an' human as if tha' was a real child instead of a sharp old woman.