“Do you always know when people aren't speaking the truth, then?”
“Yes.”
At such a monstrous remark from any other man, Felix would have smiled; but seeing it was Tod, he only asked: “How?”
“People who aren't speaking the truth look you in the face and never move their eyes.”
“Some people do that when they are speaking the truth.”
“Yes; but when they aren't, you can see them struggling to keep their eyes straight. A dog avoids your eye when he's something to conceal; a man stares at you. Listen!”
Felix listened and heard nothing.
“A wren;” and, screwing up his lips, Tod emitted a sound: “Look!”
Felix saw on the branch of an apple-tree a tiny brown bird with a little beak sticking out and a little tail sticking up. And he thought: 'Tod's hopeless!'
“That fellow,” said Tod softly, “has got his nest there just behind us.” Again he emitted the sound. Felix saw the little bird move its head with a sort of infinite curiosity, and hop twice on the branch.