I found it myself and I got into it myself.

I was only just like the robin, and they wouldn't take it from the robin." "Where is it ?" asked Dickon in a dropped voice.
Mistress Mary got up from the log at once.

She knew she felt contrary again, and obstinate, and she did not care at all.

She was imperious and Indian, and at the same time hot and sorrowful.
"Come with me and I'll show you," she said.
She led him round the laurel path and to the walk where the ivy grew so thickly.

Dickon followed her with a queer, almost pitying, look on his face.