Makanan Sehat Untuk Bayi

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makanan sehat anak bayi

chapter xithe nest of the missel thrush for two or three minutes he stood lookinground him, while mary watched him, and then he began to walk about softly, even morelightly than mary had walked the first time she had found herself inside the fourwalls. his eyes seemed to be taking in everything--the gray trees with the gray creepers climbing over them and hanging from theirbranches, the tangle on the walls and among the grass, the evergreen alcoves with the stone seats and tall flower urns standingin them. "i never thought i'd see this place," hesaid at last, in a whisper.

"did you know about it?" asked mary. she had spoken aloud and he made a sign toher. "we must talk low," he said, "or someone'll hear us an' wonder what's to do in here." "oh! i forgot!" said mary, feelingfrightened and putting her hand quickly against her mouth."did you know about the garden?" she asked again when she had recovered herself. dickon nodded."martha told me there was one as no one ever went inside," he answered."us used to wonder what it was like."

he stopped and looked round at the lovelygray tangle about him, and his round eyes looked queerly happy."eh! the nests as'll be here come springtime," he said. "it'd be th' safest nestin' place inengland. no one never comin' near an' tangles o'trees an' roses to build in. i wonder all th' birds on th' moor don'tbuild here." mistress mary put her hand on his arm againwithout knowing it. "will there be roses?" she whispered. "can you tell?i thought perhaps they were all dead."

"eh! no! not them--not all of 'em!" heanswered. "look here!" he stepped over to the nearest tree--anold, old one with gray lichen all over its bark, but upholding a curtain of tangledsprays and branches. he took a thick knife out of his pocket andopened one of its blades. "there's lots o' dead wood as ought to becut out," he said. "an' there's a lot o' old wood, but it madesome new last year. this here's a new bit," and he touched ashoot which looked brownish green instead of hard, dry gray.

mary touched it herself in an eager,reverent way. "that one?" she said."is that one quite alive quite?" dickon curved his wide smiling mouth. "it's as wick as you or me," he said; andmary remembered that martha had told her that "wick" meant "alive" or "lively.""i'm glad it's wick!" she cried out in her whisper. "i want them all to be wick.let us go round the garden and count how many wick ones there are."she quite panted with eagerness, and dickon was as eager as she was.

they went from tree to tree and from bushto bush. dickon carried his knife in his hand andshowed her things which she thought wonderful. "they've run wild," he said, "but th'strongest ones has fair thrived on it. the delicatest ones has died out, but th'others has growed an' growed, an' spread an' spread, till they's a wonder. see here!" and he pulled down a thick gray,dry-looking branch. "a body might think this was dead wood, buti don't believe it is--down to th' root. i'll cut it low down an' see."

he knelt and with his knife cut thelifeless-looking branch through, not far above the earth."there!" he said exultantly. "i told thee so. there's green in that wood yet.look at it." mary was down on her knees before he spoke,gazing with all her might. "when it looks a bit greenish an' juicylike that, it's wick," he explained. "when th' inside is dry an' breaks easy,like this here piece i've cut off, it's done for. there's a big root here as all this livewood sprung out of, an' if th' old wood's

cut off an' it's dug round, and took careof there'll be--" he stopped and lifted his face to look up at the climbing and hanging sprays above him--"there'll be a fountaino' roses here this summer." they went from bush to bush and from treeto tree. he was very strong and clever with hisknife and knew how to cut the dry and dead wood away, and could tell when anunpromising bough or twig had still green life in it. in the course of half an hour mary thoughtshe could tell too, and when he cut through a lifeless-looking branch she would cry outjoyfully under her breath when she caught

sight of the least shade of moist green. the spade, and hoe, and fork were veryuseful. he showed her how to use the fork while hedug about roots with the spade and stirred the earth and let the air in. they were working industriously round oneof the biggest standard roses when he caught sight of something which made himutter an exclamation of surprise. "why!" he cried, pointing to the grass afew feet away. "who did that there?"it was one of mary's own little clearings round the pale green points.

"i did it," said mary."why, i thought tha' didn't know nothin' about gardenin'," he exclaimed. "i don't," she answered, "but they were solittle, and the grass was so thick and strong, and they looked as if they had noroom to breathe. so i made a place for them. i don't even know what they are."dickon went and knelt down by them, smiling his wide smile."tha' was right," he said. "a gardener couldn't have told thee better. they'll grow now like jack's bean-stalk.they're crocuses an' snowdrops, an' these

here is narcissuses," turning to anotherpatch, "an here's daffydowndillys. eh! they will be a sight." he ran from one clearing to another."tha' has done a lot o' work for such a little wench," he said, looking her over."i'm growing fatter," said mary, "and i'm growing stronger. i used always to be tired.when i dig i'm not tired at all. i like to smell the earth when it's turnedup." "it's rare good for thee," he said, noddinghis head wisely. "there's naught as nice as th' smell o'good clean earth, except th' smell o' fresh

growin' things when th' rain falls on 'em. i get out on th' moor many a day when it'srainin' an' i lie under a bush an' listen to th' soft swish o' drops on th' heatheran' i just sniff an' sniff. my nose end fair quivers like a rabbit's,mother says." "do you never catch cold?" inquired mary,gazing at him wonderingly. she had never seen such a funny boy, orsuch a nice one. "not me," he said, grinning."i never ketched cold since i was born. i wasn't brought up nesh enough. i've chased about th' moor in all weatherssame as th' rabbits does.

mother says i've sniffed up too much freshair for twelve year' to ever get to sniffin' with cold. i'm as tough as a white-thorn knobstick."he was working all the time he was talking and mary was following him and helping himwith her fork or the trowel. "there's a lot of work to do here!" he saidonce, looking about quite exultantly. "will you come again and help me to do it?"mary begged. "i'm sure i can help, too. i can dig and pull up weeds, and dowhatever you tell me. oh! do come, dickon!""i'll come every day if tha' wants me, rain

or shine," he answered stoutly. "it's the best fun i ever had in my life--shut in here an' wakenin' up a garden." "if you will come," said mary, "if you willhelp me to make it alive i'll--i don't know what i'll do," she ended helplessly. what could you do for a boy like that?"i'll tell thee what tha'll do," said dickon, with his happy grin. "tha'll get fat an' tha'll get as hungry asa young fox an' tha'll learn how to talk to th' robin same as i do.eh! we'll have a lot o' fun." he began to walk about, looking up in thetrees and at the walls and bushes with a

thoughtful expression. "i wouldn't want to make it look like agardener's garden, all clipped an' spick an' span, would you?" he said. "it's nicer like this with things runnin'wild, an' swingin' an' catchin' hold of each other.""don't let us make it tidy," said mary anxiously. "it wouldn't seem like a secret garden ifit was tidy." dickon stood rubbing his rusty-red headwith a rather puzzled look. "it's a secret garden sure enough," hesaid, "but seems like some one besides th'

robin must have been in it since it wasshut up ten year' ago." "but the door was locked and the key wasburied," said mary. "no one could get in.""that's true," he answered. "it's a queer place. seems to me as if there'd been a bit o'prunin' done here an' there, later than ten year' ago.""but how could it have been done?" said mary. he was examining a branch of a standardrose and he shook his head. "aye! how could it!" he murmured."with th' door locked an' th' key buried."

mistress mary always felt that however manyyears she lived she should never forget that first morning when her garden began togrow. of course, it did seem to begin to grow forher that morning. when dickon began to clear places to plantseeds, she remembered what basil had sung at her when he wanted to tease her. "are there any flowers that look likebells?" she inquired. "lilies o' th' valley does," he answered,digging away with the trowel, "an' there's canterbury bells, an' campanulas." "let's plant some," said mary."there's lilies o' th, valley here already;

i saw 'em.they'll have growed too close an' we'll have to separate 'em, but there's plenty. th' other ones takes two years to bloomfrom seed, but i can bring you some bits o' plants from our cottage garden.why does tha' want 'em?" then mary told him about basil and hisbrothers and sisters in india and of how she had hated them and of their calling her"mistress mary quite contrary." "they used to dance round and sing at me. they sang-- 'mistress mary, quite contrary,how does your garden grow?

with silver bells, and cockle shells,and marigolds all in a row.' i just remembered it and it made me wonderif there were really flowers like silver bells."she frowned a little and gave her trowel a rather spiteful dig into the earth. "i wasn't as contrary as they were."but dickon laughed. "eh!" he said, and as he crumbled the richblack soil she saw he was sniffing up the scent of it. "there doesn't seem to be no need for noone to be contrary when there's flowers an' such like, an' such lots o' friendly wildthings runnin' about makin' homes for

themselves, or buildin' nests an' singin'an' whistlin', does there?" mary, kneeling by him holding the seeds,looked at him and stopped frowning. "dickon," she said, "you are as nice asmartha said you were. i like you, and you make the fifth person.i never thought i should like five people." dickon sat up on his heels as martha didwhen she was polishing the grate. he did look funny and delightful, marythought, with his round blue eyes and red cheeks and happy looking turned-up nose. "only five folk as tha' likes?" he said."who is th' other four?" "your mother and martha," mary checked themoff on her fingers, "and the robin and ben

weatherstaff." dickon laughed so that he was obliged tostifle the sound by putting his arm over his mouth. "i know tha' thinks i'm a queer lad," hesaid, "but i think tha' art th' queerest little lass i ever saw."then mary did a strange thing. she leaned forward and asked him a questionshe had never dreamed of asking any one before. and she tried to ask it in yorkshirebecause that was his language, and in india a native was always pleased if you knew hisspeech.

"does tha' like me?" she said. "eh!" he answered heartily, "that i does.i likes thee wonderful, an' so does th' robin, i do believe!""that's two, then," said mary. "that's two for me." and then they began to work harder thanever and more joyfully. mary was startled and sorry when she heardthe big clock in the courtyard strike the hour of her midday dinner. "i shall have to go," she said mournfully."and you will have to go too, won't you?" dickon grinned."my dinner's easy to carry about with me,"

he said. "mother always lets me put a bit o'somethin' in my pocket." he picked up his coat from the grass andbrought out of a pocket a lumpy little bundle tied up in a quite clean, coarse,blue and white handkerchief. it held two thick pieces of bread with aslice of something laid between them. "it's oftenest naught but bread," he said,"but i've got a fine slice o' fat bacon with it today." mary thought it looked a queer dinner, buthe seemed ready to enjoy it. "run on an' get thy victuals," he said."i'll be done with mine first.

i'll get some more work done before i startback home." he sat down with his back against a tree."i'll call th' robin up," he said, "and give him th' rind o' th' bacon to peck at. they likes a bit o' fat wonderful."mary could scarcely bear to leave him. suddenly it seemed as if he might be a sortof wood fairy who might be gone when she came into the garden again. he seemed too good to be true.she went slowly half-way to the door in the wall and then she stopped and went back."whatever happens, you--you never would tell?" she said.

his poppy-colored cheeks were distendedwith his first big bite of bread and bacon, but he managed to smile encouragingly. "if tha' was a missel thrush an' showed mewhere thy nest was, does tha' think i'd tell any one?not me," he said. "tha' art as safe as a missel thrush." and she was quite sure she was. > chapter xii"might i have a bit of earth?" mary ran so fast that she was rather out ofbreath when she reached her room.

her hair was ruffled on her forehead andher cheeks were bright pink. her dinner was waiting on the table, andmartha was waiting near it. "tha's a bit late," she said."where has tha' been?" "i've seen dickon!" said mary. "i've seen dickon!""i knew he'd come," said martha exultantly. "how does tha' like him?""i think--i think he's beautiful!" said mary in a determined voice. martha looked rather taken aback but shelooked pleased, too. "well," she said, "he's th' best lad asever was born, but us never thought he was

handsome. his nose turns up too much.""i like it to turn up," said mary. "an' his eyes is so round," said martha, atrifle doubtful. "though they're a nice color." "i like them round," said mary."and they are exactly the color of the sky over the moor."martha beamed with satisfaction. "mother says he made 'em that color withalways lookin' up at th' birds an' th' clouds.but he has got a big mouth, hasn't he, now?"

"i love his big mouth," said maryobstinately. "i wish mine were just like it."martha chuckled delightedly. "it'd look rare an' funny in thy bit of aface," she said. "but i knowed it would be that way whentha' saw him. how did tha' like th' seeds an' th' gardentools?" "how did you know he brought them?" askedmary. "eh! i never thought of him not bringin''em. he'd be sure to bring 'em if they was inyorkshire. he's such a trusty lad."

mary was afraid that she might begin to askdifficult questions, but she did not. she was very much interested in the seedsand gardening tools, and there was only one moment when mary was frightened. this was when she began to ask where theflowers were to be planted. "who did tha' ask about it?" she inquired."i haven't asked anybody yet," said mary, hesitating. "well, i wouldn't ask th' head gardener.he's too grand, mr. roach is." "i've never seen him," said mary."i've only seen undergardeners and ben "if i was you, i'd ask ben weatherstaff,"advised martha.

"he's not half as bad as he looks, for allhe's so crabbed. mr. craven lets him do what he likesbecause he was here when mrs. craven was alive, an' he used to make her laugh.she liked him. perhaps he'd find you a corner somewhereout o' the way." "if it was out of the way and no one wantedit, no one could mind my having it, could they?" mary said anxiously."there wouldn't be no reason," answered martha."you wouldn't do no harm." mary ate her dinner as quickly as she couldand when she rose from the table she was

going to run to her room to put on her hatagain, but martha stopped her. "i've got somethin' to tell you," she said. "i thought i'd let you eat your dinnerfirst. mr. craven came back this mornin' and ithink he wants to see you." mary turned quite pale. "oh!" she said."why! why! he didn't want to see me when i came.i heard pitcher say he didn't." "well," explained martha, "mrs. medlocksays it's because o' mother. she was walkin' to thwaite village an' shemet him.

she'd never spoke to him before, but mrs.craven had been to our cottage two or three times.he'd forgot, but mother hadn't an' she made bold to stop him. i don't know what she said to him about youbut she said somethin' as put him in th' mind to see you before he goes away again,tomorrow." "oh!" cried mary, "is he going awaytomorrow? i am so glad!""he's goin' for a long time. he mayn't come back till autumn or winter. he's goin' to travel in foreign places.he's always doin' it."

"oh! i'm so glad--so glad!" said marythankfully. if he did not come back until winter, oreven autumn, there would be time to watch the secret garden come alive. even if he found out then and took it awayfrom her she would have had that much at least."when do you think he will want to see--" she did not finish the sentence, becausethe door opened, and mrs. medlock walked in. she had on her best black dress and cap,and her collar was fastened with a large brooch with a picture of a man's face onit.

it was a colored photograph of mr. medlockwho had died years ago, and she always wore it when she was dressed up.she looked nervous and excited. "your hair's rough," she said quickly. "go and brush it.martha, help her to slip on her best dress. mr. craven sent me to bring her to him inhis study." all the pink left mary's cheeks. her heart began to thump and she feltherself changing into a stiff, plain, silent child again. she did not even answer mrs. medlock, butturned and walked into her bedroom,

followed by martha. she said nothing while her dress waschanged, and her hair brushed, and after she was quite tidy she followed mrs.medlock down the corridors, in silence. what was there for her to say? she was obliged to go and see mr. cravenand he would not like her, and she would not like him.she knew what he would think of her. she was taken to a part of the house shehad not been into before. at last mrs. medlock knocked at a door, andwhen some one said, "come in," they entered the room together.

a man was sitting in an armchair before thefire, and mrs. medlock spoke to him. "this is miss mary, sir," she said."you can go and leave her here. i will ring for you when i want you to takeher away," said mr. craven. when she went out and closed the door, marycould only stand waiting, a plain little thing, twisting her thin hands together. she could see that the man in the chair wasnot so much a hunchback as a man with high, rather crooked shoulders, and he had blackhair streaked with white. he turned his head over his high shouldersand spoke to her. "come here!" he said.mary went to him.

he was not ugly. his face would have been handsome if it hadnot been so miserable. he looked as if the sight of her worriedand fretted him and as if he did not know what in the world to do with her. "are you well?" he asked."yes," answered mary. "do they take good care of you?""yes." he rubbed his forehead fretfully as helooked her over. "you are very thin," he said."i am getting fatter," mary answered in what she knew was her stiffest way.

what an unhappy face he had!his black eyes seemed as if they scarcely saw her, as if they were seeing somethingelse, and he could hardly keep his thoughts upon her. "i forgot you," he said."how could i remember you? i intended to send you a governess or anurse, or some one of that sort, but i forgot." "please," began mary."please--" and then the lump in her throat choked her."what do you want to say?" he inquired. "i am--i am too big for a nurse," saidmary.

"and please--please don't make me have agoverness yet." he rubbed his forehead again and stared ather. "that was what the sowerby woman said," hemuttered absentmindedly. then mary gathered a scrap of courage. "is she--is she martha's mother?" shestammered. "yes, i think so," he replied."she knows about children," said mary. "she has twelve. she knows."he seemed to rouse himself. "what do you want to do?"

"i want to play out of doors," maryanswered, hoping that her voice did not tremble."i never liked it in india. it makes me hungry here, and i am gettingfatter." he was watching her."mrs. sowerby said it would do you good. perhaps it will," he said. "she thought you had better get strongerbefore you had a governess." "it makes me feel strong when i play andthe wind comes over the moor," argued mary. "where do you play?" he asked next. "everywhere," gasped mary."martha's mother sent me a skipping-rope.

i skip and run--and i look about to see ifthings are beginning to stick up out of the earth. i don't do any harm.""don't look so frightened," he said in a worried voice."you could not do any harm, a child like you! you may do what you like."mary put her hand up to her throat because she was afraid he might see the excitedlump which she felt jump into it. she came a step nearer to him. "may i?" she said tremulously.her anxious little face seemed to worry him

more than ever."don't look so frightened," he exclaimed. "of course you may. i am your guardian, though i am a poor onefor any child. i cannot give you time or attention.i am too ill, and wretched and distracted; but i wish you to be happy and comfortable. i don't know anything about children, butmrs. medlock is to see that you have all you need.i sent for you to-day because mrs. sowerby said i ought to see you. her daughter had talked about you.she thought you needed fresh air and

freedom and running about.""she knows all about children," mary said again in spite of herself. "she ought to," said mr. craven."i thought her rather bold to stop me on the moor, but she said--mrs. craven hadbeen kind to her." it seemed hard for him to speak his deadwife's name. "she is a respectable woman.now i have seen you i think she said sensible things. play out of doors as much as you like.it's a big place and you may go where you like and amuse yourself as you like.is there anything you want?" as if a sudden

thought had struck him. "do you want toys, books, dolls?""might i," quavered mary, "might i have a bit of earth?" in her eagerness she did not realize howqueer the words would sound and that they were not the ones she had meant to say.mr. craven looked quite startled. "earth!" he repeated. "what do you mean?""to plant seeds in--to make things grow--to see them come alive," mary faltered.he gazed at her a moment and then passed his hand quickly over his eyes.

"do you--care about gardens so much," hesaid slowly. "i didn't know about them in india," saidmary. "i was always ill and tired and it was toohot. i sometimes made little beds in the sandand stuck flowers in them. but here it is different." mr. craven got up and began to walk slowlyacross the room. "a bit of earth," he said to himself, andmary thought that somehow she must have reminded him of something. when he stopped and spoke to her his darkeyes looked almost soft and kind.

"you can have as much earth as you want,"he said. "you remind me of some one else who lovedthe earth and things that grow. when you see a bit of earth you want," withsomething like a smile, "take it, child, and make it come alive." "may i take it from anywhere--if it's notwanted?" "anywhere," he answered."there! you must go now, i am tired." he touched the bell to call mrs. medlock."good-by. i shall be away all summer."

mrs. medlock came so quickly that marythought she must have been waiting in the corridor. "mrs. medlock," mr. craven said to her,"now i have seen the child i understand what mrs. sowerby meant.she must be less delicate before she begins lessons. give her simple, healthy food.let her run wild in the garden. don't look after her too much.she needs liberty and fresh air and romping about. mrs. sowerby is to come and see her now andthen and she may sometimes go to the

cottage."mrs. medlock looked pleased. she was relieved to hear that she need not"look after" mary too much. she had felt her a tiresome charge and hadindeed seen as little of her as she dared. in addition to this she was fond ofmartha's mother. "thank you, sir," she said. "susan sowerby and me went to schooltogether and she's as sensible and good- hearted a woman as you'd find in a day'swalk. i never had any children myself and she'shad twelve, and there never was healthier or better ones.miss mary can get no harm from them.

i'd always take susan sowerby's adviceabout children myself. she's what you might call healthy-minded--if you understand me." "i understand," mr. craven answered. "take miss mary away now and send pitcherto me." when mrs. medlock left her at the end ofher own corridor mary flew back to her room. she found martha waiting there.martha had, in fact, hurried back after she had removed the dinner service."i can have my garden!" cried mary. "i may have it where i like!

i am not going to have a governess for along time! your mother is coming to see me and i maygo to your cottage! he says a little girl like me could not doany harm and i may do what i like-- anywhere!""eh!" said martha delightedly, "that was nice of him wasn't it?" "martha," said mary solemnly, "he is reallya nice man, only his face is so miserable and his forehead is all drawn together."she ran as quickly as she could to the garden. she had been away so much longer than shehad thought she should and she knew dickon

would have to set out early on his five-mile walk. when she slipped through the door under theivy, she saw he was not working where she had left him.the gardening tools were laid together under a tree. she ran to them, looking all round theplace, but there was no dickon to be seen. he had gone away and the secret garden wasempty--except for the robin who had just flown across the wall and sat on a standardrose-bush watching her. "he's gone," she said woefully. "oh! was he--was he--was he only a woodfairy?"

something white fastened to the standardrose-bush caught her eye. it was a piece of paper, in fact, it was apiece of the letter she had printed for martha to send to dickon. it was fastened on the bush with a longthorn, and in a minute she knew dickon had left it there.there were some roughly printed letters on it and a sort of picture. at first she could not tell what it was.then she saw it was meant for a nest with a bird sitting on it.underneath were the printed letters and they said:

"i will cum bak." chapter xiii"i am colin" mary took the picture back to the housewhen she went to her supper and she showed it to martha."eh!" said martha with great pride. "i never knew our dickon was as clever asthat. that there's a picture of a missel thrushon her nest, as large as life an' twice as natural." then mary knew dickon had meant the pictureto be a message. he had meant that she might be sure hewould keep her secret.

her garden was her nest and she was like amissel thrush. oh, how she did like that queer, commonboy! she hoped he would come back the very nextday and she fell asleep looking forward to the morning. but you never know what the weather will doin yorkshire, particularly in the springtime. she was awakened in the night by the soundof rain beating with heavy drops against her window. it was pouring down in torrents and thewind was "wuthering" round the corners and

in the chimneys of the huge old house.mary sat up in bed and felt miserable and angry. "the rain is as contrary as i ever was,"she said. "it came because it knew i did not wantit." she threw herself back on her pillow andburied her face. she did not cry, but she lay and hated thesound of the heavily beating rain, she hated the wind and its "wuthering." she could not go to sleep again.the mournful sound kept her awake because she felt mournful herself.if she had felt happy it would probably

have lulled her to sleep. how it "wuthered" and how the big raindropspoured down and beat against the pane! "it sounds just like a person lost on themoor and wandering on and on crying," she said. she had been lying awake turning from sideto side for about an hour, when suddenly something made her sit up in bed and turnher head toward the door listening. she listened and she listened. "it isn't the wind now," she said in a loudwhisper. "that isn't the wind.it is different.

it is that crying i heard before." the door of her room was ajar and the soundcame down the corridor, a far-off faint sound of fretful crying.she listened for a few minutes and each minute she became more and more sure. she felt as if she must find out what itwas. it seemed even stranger than the secretgarden and the buried key. perhaps the fact that she was in arebellious mood made her bold. she put her foot out of bed and stood onthe floor. "i am going to find out what it is," shesaid.

"everybody is in bed and i don't care aboutmrs. medlock--i don't care!" there was a candle by her bedside and shetook it up and went softly out of the room. the corridor looked very long and dark, butshe was too excited to mind that. she thought she remembered the corners shemust turn to find the short corridor with the door covered with tapestry--the onemrs. medlock had come through the day she lost herself. the sound had come up that passage.so she went on with her dim light, almost feeling her way, her heart beating so loudthat she fancied she could hear it. the far-off faint crying went on and ledher.

sometimes it stopped for a moment or so andthen began again. was this the right corner to turn? she stopped and thought.yes it was. down this passage and then to the left, andthen up two broad steps, and then to the right again. yes, there was the tapestry door.she pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood in thecorridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was not loud. it was on the other side of the wall at herleft and a few yards farther on there was a

door.she could see a glimmer of light coming from beneath it. the someone was crying in that room, and itwas quite a young someone. so she walked to the door and pushed itopen, and there she was standing in the room! it was a big room with ancient, handsomefurniture in it. there was a low fire glowing faintly on thehearth and a night light burning by the side of a carved four-posted bed hung withbrocade, and on the bed was lying a boy, crying fretfully.

mary wondered if she was in a real place orif she had fallen asleep again and was dreaming without knowing it. the boy had a sharp, delicate face thecolor of ivory and he seemed to have eyes too big for it. he had also a lot of hair which tumbledover his forehead in heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller. he looked like a boy who had been ill, buthe was crying more as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand, holding her breath.

then she crept across the room, and, as shedrew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attention and he turned his head on hispillow and stared at her, his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense. "who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. "are you a ghost?""no, i am not," mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened. "are you one?"he stared and stared and stared. mary could not help noticing what strangeeyes he had. they were agate gray and they looked toobig for his face because they had black

lashes all round them."no," he replied after waiting a moment or so. "i am colin.""who is colin?" she faltered. "i am colin craven.who are you?" "i am mary lennox. mr. craven is my uncle.""he is my father," said the boy. "your father!" gasped mary."no one ever told me he had a boy! why didn't they?" "come here," he said, still keeping hisstrange eyes fixed on her with an anxious

expression.she came close to the bed and he put out his hand and touched her. "you are real, aren't you?" he said."i have such real dreams very often. you might be one of them." mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper beforeshe left her room and she put a piece of it between his fingers."rub that and see how thick and warm it is," she said. "i will pinch you a little if you like, toshow you how real i am. for a minute i thought you might be a dreamtoo."

"where did you come from?" he asked. "from my own room.the wind wuthered so i couldn't go to sleep and i heard some one crying and wanted tofind out who it was. what were you crying for?" "because i couldn't go to sleep either andmy head ached. tell me your name again.""mary lennox. did no one ever tell you i had come to livehere?" he was still fingering the fold of herwrapper, but he began to look a little more as if he believed in her reality.

"no," he answered."they daren't." "why?" asked mary."because i should have been afraid you would see me. i won't let people see me and talk meover." "why?"mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment. "because i am like this always, ill andhaving to lie down. my father won't let people talk me overeither. the servants are not allowed to speak aboutme.

if i live i may be a hunchback, but ishan't live. my father hates to think i may be likehim." "oh, what a queer house this is!"mary said. "what a queer house! everything is a kind of secret.rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you!have you been locked up?" "no. i stay in this room because i don'twant to be moved out of it. it tires me too much.""does your father come and see you?" mary ventured.

"sometimes.generally when i am asleep. he doesn't want to see me.""why?" mary could not help asking again. a sort of angry shadow passed over theboy's face. "my mother died when i was born and itmakes him wretched to look at me. he thinks i don't know, but i've heardpeople talking. he almost hates me.""he hates the garden, because she died," said mary half speaking to herself. "what garden?" the boy asked."oh! just--just a garden she used to like,"

mary stammered."have you been here always?" "nearly always. sometimes i have been taken to places atthe seaside, but i won't stay because people stare at me. i used to wear an iron thing to keep myback straight, but a grand doctor came from london to see me and said it was stupid.he told them to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air. i hate fresh air and i don't want to goout." "i didn't when first i came here," saidmary.

"why do you keep looking at me like that?" "because of the dreams that are so real,"he answered rather fretfully. "sometimes when i open my eyes i don'tbelieve i'm awake." "we're both awake," said mary. she glanced round the room with its highceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire- light. "it looks quite like a dream, and it's themiddle of the night, and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.we are wide awake." "i don't want it to be a dream," the boysaid restlessly.

mary thought of something all at once."if you don't like people to see you," she began, "do you want me to go away?" he still held the fold of her wrapper andhe gave it a little pull. "no," he said."i should be sure you were a dream if you went. if you are real, sit down on that bigfootstool and talk. i want to hear about you." mary put down her candle on the table nearthe bed and sat down on the cushioned stool.she did not want to go away at all.

she wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy."what do you want me to tell you?" she he wanted to know how long she had been atmisselthwaite; he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wanted to knowwhat she had been doing; if she disliked the moor as he disliked it; where she hadlived before she came to yorkshire. she answered all these questions and manymore and he lay back on his pillow and listened. he made her tell him a great deal aboutindia and about her voyage across the ocean.

she found out that because he had been aninvalid he had not learned things as other children had. one of his nurses had taught him to readwhen he was quite little and he was always reading and looking at pictures in splendidbooks. though his father rarely saw him when hewas awake, he was given all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with.he never seemed to have been amused, however. he could have anything he asked for and wasnever made to do anything he did not like to do."everyone is obliged to do what pleases

me," he said indifferently. "it makes me ill to be angry.no one believes i shall live to grow up." he said it as if he was so accustomed tothe idea that it had ceased to matter to him at all. he seemed to like the sound of mary'svoice. as she went on talking he listened in adrowsy, interested way. once or twice she wondered if he were notgradually falling into a doze. but at last he asked a question whichopened up a new subject. "how old are you?" he asked.

"i am ten," answered mary, forgettingherself for the moment, "and so are you." "how do you know that?" he demanded in asurprised voice. "because when you were born the garden doorwas locked and the key was buried. and it has been locked for ten years."colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows. "what garden door was locked?who did it? where was the key buried?" he exclaimed asif he were suddenly very much interested. "it--it was the garden mr. craven hates,"said mary nervously. "he locked the door.no one--no one knew where he buried the

key." "what sort of a garden is it?"colin persisted eagerly. "no one has been allowed to go into it forten years," was mary's careful answer. but it was too late to be careful. he was too much like herself.he too had had nothing to think about and the idea of a hidden garden attracted himas it had attracted her. he asked question after question. where was it?had she never looked for the door? had she never asked the gardeners?"they won't talk about it," said mary.

"i think they have been told not to answerquestions." "i would make them," said colin."could you?" mary faltered, beginning to feelfrightened. if he could make people answer questions,who knew what might happen! "everyone is obliged to please me. i told you that," he said."if i were to live, this place would sometime belong to me.they all know that. i would make them tell me." mary had not known that she herself hadbeen spoiled, but she could see quite

plainly that this mysterious boy had been.he thought that the whole world belonged to him. how peculiar he was and how coolly he spokeof not living. "do you think you won't live?" she asked,partly because she was curious and partly in hope of making him forget the garden. "i don't suppose i shall," he answered asindifferently as he had spoken before. "ever since i remember anything i haveheard people say i shan't. at first they thought i was too little tounderstand and now they think i don't hear. but i do.my doctor is my father's cousin.

he is quite poor and if i die he will haveall misselthwaite when my father is dead. i should think he wouldn't want me tolive." "do you want to live?" inquired mary. "no," he answered, in a cross, tiredfashion. "but i don't want to die.when i feel ill i lie here and think about it until i cry and cry." "i have heard you crying three times," marysaid, "but i did not know who it was. were you crying about that?"she did so want him to forget the garden. "i dare say," he answered.

"let us talk about something else.talk about that garden. don't you want to see it?""yes," answered mary, in quite a low voice. "i do," he went on persistently. "i don't think i ever really wanted to seeanything before, but i want to see that garden.i want the key dug up. i want the door unlocked. i would let them take me there in my chair.that would be getting fresh air. i am going to make them open the door." he had become quite excited and his strangeeyes began to shine like stars and looked

more immense than ever."they have to please me," he said. "i will make them take me there and i willlet you go, too." mary's hands clutched each other.everything would be spoiled--everything! dickon would never come back. she would never again feel like a misselthrush with a safe-hidden nest. "oh, don't--don't--don't--don't do that!"she cried out. he stared as if he thought she had gonecrazy! "why?" he exclaimed."you said you wanted to see it." "i do," she answered almost with a sob inher throat, "but if you make them open the

door and take you in like that it willnever be a secret again." he leaned still farther forward. "a secret," he said."what do you mean? tell me."mary's words almost tumbled over one another. "you see--you see," she panted, "if no oneknows but ourselves--if there was a door, hidden somewhere under the ivy--if therewas--and we could find it; and if we could slip through it together and shut it behind us, and no one knew any one was inside andwe called it our garden and pretended that-

-that we were missel thrushes and it wasour nest, and if we played there almost every day and dug and planted seeds andmade it all come alive--" "is it dead?" he interrupted her."it soon will be if no one cares for it," she went on. "the bulbs will live but the roses--"he stopped her again as excited as she was herself."what are bulbs?" he put in quickly. "they are daffodils and lilies andsnowdrops. they are working in the earth now--pushingup pale green points because the spring is coming."

"is the spring coming?" he said."what is it like? you don't see it in rooms if you are ill." "it is the sun shining on the rain and therain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth,"said mary. "if the garden was a secret and we couldget into it we could watch the things grow bigger every day, and see how many rosesare alive. don't you see? oh, don't you see how much nicer it wouldbe if it was a secret?" he dropped back on his pillow and lay therewith an odd expression on his face.

"i never had a secret," he said, "exceptthat one about not living to grow up. they don't know i know that, so it is asort of secret. but i like this kind better." "if you won't make them take you to thegarden," pleaded mary, "perhaps--i feel almost sure i can find out how to get insometime. and then--if the doctor wants you to go outin your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do, perhaps--perhaps wemight find some boy who would push you, and we could go alone and it would always be asecret garden." "i should--like--that," he said veryslowly, his eyes looking dreamy.

"i should like that. i should not mind fresh air in a secretgarden." mary began to recover her breath and feelsafer because the idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him. she felt almost sure that if she kept ontalking and could make him see the garden in his mind as she had seen it he wouldlike it so much that he could not bear to think that everybody might tramp in to itwhen they chose. "i'll tell you what i think it would belike, if we could go into it," she said. "it has been shut up so long things havegrown into a tangle perhaps."

he lay quite still and listened while shewent on talking about the roses which might have clambered from tree to tree and hungdown--about the many birds which might have built their nests there because it was sosafe. and then she told him about the robin andben weatherstaff, and there was so much to tell about the robin and it was so easy andsafe to talk about it that she ceased to be afraid. the robin pleased him so much that hesmiled until he looked almost beautiful, and at first mary had thought that he waseven plainer than herself, with his big eyes and heavy locks of hair.

"i did not know birds could be like that,"he said. "but if you stay in a room you never seethings. what a lot of things you know. i feel as if you had been inside thatgarden." she did not know what to say, so she didnot say anything. he evidently did not expect an answer andthe next moment he gave her a surprise. "i am going to let you look at something,"he said. "do you see that rose-colored silk curtainhanging on the wall over the mantel-piece?" mary had not noticed it before, but shelooked up and saw it.

it was a curtain of soft silk hanging overwhat seemed to be some picture. "yes," she answered."there is a cord hanging from it," said colin. "go and pull it."mary got up, much mystified, and found the cord. when she pulled it the silk curtain ranback on rings and when it ran back it uncovered a picture.it was the picture of a girl with a laughing face. she had bright hair tied up with a blueribbon and her gay, lovely eyes were

exactly like colin's unhappy ones, agategray and looking twice as big as they really were because of the black lashes allround them. "she is my mother," said colincomplainingly. "i don't see why she died. sometimes i hate her for doing it.""how queer!" said mary. "if she had lived i believe i should nothave been ill always," he grumbled. "i dare say i should have lived, too. and my father would not have hated to lookat me. i dare say i should have had a strong back.draw the curtain again."

mary did as she was told and returned toher footstool. "she is much prettier than you," she said,"but her eyes are just like yours--at least they are the same shape and color. why is the curtain drawn over her?"he moved uncomfortably. "i made them do it," he said."sometimes i don't like to see her looking at me. she smiles too much when i am ill andmiserable. besides, she is mine and i don't wanteveryone to see her." there were a few moments of silence andthen mary spoke.

"what would mrs. medlock do if she foundout that i had been here?" she inquired. "she would do as i told her to do," heanswered. "and i should tell her that i wanted you tocome here and talk to me every day. i am glad you came." "so am i," said mary."i will come as often as i can, but"--she hesitated--"i shall have to look every dayfor the garden door." "yes, you must," said colin, "and you cantell me about it afterward." he lay thinking a few minutes, as he haddone before, and then he spoke again. "i think you shall be a secret, too," hesaid.

"i will not tell them until they find out.i can always send the nurse out of the room and say that i want to be by myself. do you know martha?""yes, i know her very well," said mary. "she waits on me."he nodded his head toward the outer "she is the one who is asleep in the otherroom. the nurse went away yesterday to stay allnight with her sister and she always makes martha attend to me when she wants to goout. martha shall tell you when to come here." then mary understood martha's troubled lookwhen she had asked questions about the

crying."martha knew about you all the time?" she "yes; she often attends to me.the nurse likes to get away from me and then martha comes.""i have been here a long time," said mary. "shall i go away now? your eyes look sleepy.""i wish i could go to sleep before you leave me," he said rather shyly. "shut your eyes," said mary, drawing herfootstool closer, "and i will do what my ayah used to do in india.i will pat your hand and stroke it and sing something quite low."

"i should like that perhaps," he saiddrowsily. somehow she was sorry for him and did notwant him to lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and began to stroke and pathis hand and sing a very low little chanting song in hindustani. "that is nice," he said more drowsilystill, and she went on chanting and stroking, but when she looked at him againhis black lashes were lying close against his cheeks, for his eyes were shut and hewas fast asleep. so she got up softly, took her candle andcrept away without making a sound. chapter xiva young rajah

the moor was hidden in mist when themorning came, and the rain had not stopped pouring down.there could be no going out of doors. martha was so busy that mary had noopportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoon she asked her to come and sitwith her in the nursery. she came bringing the stocking she wasalways knitting when she was doing nothing else."what's the matter with thee?" she asked as soon as they sat down. "tha' looks as if tha'd somethin' to say.""i have. i have found out what the crying was," saidmary.

martha let her knitting drop on her kneeand gazed at her with startled eyes. "tha' hasn't!" she exclaimed."never!" "i heard it in the night," mary went on. "and i got up and went to see where it camefrom. it was colin.i found him." martha's face became red with fright. "eh! miss mary!" she said half crying."tha' shouldn't have done it--tha' shouldn't!tha'll get me in trouble. i never told thee nothin' about him--buttha'll get me in trouble.

i shall lose my place and what'll motherdo!" "you won't lose your place," said mary. "he was glad i came.we talked and talked and he said he was glad i came.""was he?" cried martha. "art tha' sure? tha' doesn't know what he's like whenanything vexes him. he's a big lad to cry like a baby, but whenhe's in a passion he'll fair scream just to frighten us. he knows us daren't call our souls ourown."

"he wasn't vexed," said mary."i asked him if i should go away and he made me stay. he asked me questions and i sat on a bigfootstool and talked to him about india and about the robin and gardens.he wouldn't let me go. he let me see his mother's picture. before i left him i sang him to sleep."martha fairly gasped with amazement. "i can scarcely believe thee!" sheprotested. "it's as if tha'd walked straight into alion's den. if he'd been like he is most times he'dhave throwed himself into one of his

tantrums and roused th' house. he won't let strangers look at him.""he let me look at him. i looked at him all the time and he lookedat me. we stared!" said mary. "i don't know what to do!" cried agitatedmartha. "if mrs. medlock finds out, she'll think ibroke orders and told thee and i shall be packed back to mother." "he is not going to tell mrs. medlockanything about it yet. it's to be a sort of secret just at first,"said mary firmly.

"and he says everybody is obliged to do ashe pleases." "aye, that's true enough--th' bad lad!"sighed martha, wiping her forehead with her apron. "he says mrs. medlock must.and he wants me to come and talk to him every day.and you are to tell me when he wants me." "me!" said martha; "i shall lose my place--i shall for sure!" "you can't if you are doing what he wantsyou to do and everybody is ordered to obey him," mary argued. "does tha' mean to say," cried martha withwide open eyes, "that he was nice to thee!"

"i think he almost liked me," maryanswered. "then tha' must have bewitched him!"decided martha, drawing a long breath. "do you mean magic?" inquired mary."i've heard about magic in india, but i can't make it. i just went into his room and i was sosurprised to see him i stood and stared. and then he turned round and stared at me.and he thought i was a ghost or a dream and i thought perhaps he was. and it was so queer being there alonetogether in the middle of the night and not knowing about each other.and we began to ask each other questions.

and when i asked him if i must go away hesaid i must not." "th' world's comin' to a end!" gaspedmartha. "what is the matter with him?" asked mary. "nobody knows for sure and certain," saidmartha. "mr. craven went off his head like when hewas born. th' doctors thought he'd have to be put ina 'sylum. it was because mrs. craven died like i toldyou. he wouldn't set eyes on th' baby. he just raved and said it'd be anotherhunchback like him and it'd better die."

"is colin a hunchback?"mary asked. "he didn't look like one." "he isn't yet," said martha."but he began all wrong. mother said that there was enough troubleand raging in th' house to set any child wrong. they was afraid his back was weak an'they've always been takin' care of it-- keepin' him lyin' down and not lettin' himwalk. once they made him wear a brace but hefretted so he was downright ill. then a big doctor came to see him an' madethem take it off.

he talked to th' other doctor quite rough--in a polite way. he said there'd been too much medicine andtoo much lettin' him have his own way." "i think he's a very spoiled boy," saidmary. "he's th' worst young nowt as ever was!"said martha. "i won't say as he hasn't been ill a goodbit. he's had coughs an' colds that's nearlykilled him two or three times. once he had rheumatic fever an' once he hadtyphoid. eh! mrs. medlock did get a fright then. he'd been out of his head an' she wastalkin' to th' nurse, thinkin' he didn't

know nothin', an' she said, 'he'll die thistime sure enough, an' best thing for him an' for everybody.' an' she looked at him an' there he was withhis big eyes open, starin' at her as sensible as she was herself. she didn't know wha'd happen but he juststared at her an' says, 'you give me some water an' stop talkin'.'""do you think he will die?" asked mary. "mother says there's no reason why anychild should live that gets no fresh air an' doesn't do nothin' but lie on his backan' read picture-books an' take medicine. he's weak and hates th' trouble o' bein'taken out o' doors, an' he gets cold so

easy he says it makes him ill."mary sat and looked at the fire. "i wonder," she said slowly, "if it wouldnot do him good to go out into a garden and watch things growing.it did me good." "one of th' worst fits he ever had," saidmartha, "was one time they took him out where the roses is by the fountain. he'd been readin' in a paper about peoplegettin' somethin' he called 'rose cold' an' he began to sneeze an' said he'd got it an'then a new gardener as didn't know th' rules passed by an' looked at him curious. he threw himself into a passion an' he saidhe'd looked at him because he was going to

be a hunchback.he cried himself into a fever an' was ill all night." "if he ever gets angry at me, i'll never goand see him again," said mary. "he'll have thee if he wants thee," saidmartha. "tha' may as well know that at th' start." very soon afterward a bell rang and sherolled up her knitting. "i dare say th' nurse wants me to stay withhim a bit," she said. "i hope he's in a good temper." she was out of the room about ten minutesand then she came back with a puzzled

expression."well, tha' has bewitched him," she said. "he's up on his sofa with his picture-books. he's told the nurse to stay away until sixo'clock. i'm to wait in the next room. th' minute she was gone he called me to himan' says, 'i want mary lennox to come and talk to me, and remember you're not to tellany one.' you'd better go as quick as you can." mary was quite willing to go quickly.she did not want to see colin as much as she wanted to see dickon; but she wanted tosee him very much.

there was a bright fire on the hearth whenshe entered his room, and in the daylight she saw it was a very beautiful roomindeed. there were rich colors in the rugs andhangings and pictures and books on the walls which made it look glowing andcomfortable even in spite of the gray sky and falling rain. colin looked rather like a picture himself.he was wrapped in a velvet dressing-gown and sat against a big brocaded cushion.he had a red spot on each cheek. "come in," he said. "i've been thinking about you all morning.""i've been thinking about you, too,"

answered mary."you don't know how frightened martha is. she says mrs. medlock will think she toldme about you and then she will be sent away."he frowned. "go and tell her to come here," he said. "she is in the next room."mary went and brought her back. poor martha was shaking in her shoes.colin was still frowning. "have you to do what i please or have younot?" he demanded. "i have to do what you please, sir," marthafaltered, turning quite red. "has medlock to do what i please?"

"everybody has, sir," said martha."well, then, if i order you to bring miss mary to me, how can medlock send you awayif she finds it out?" "please don't let her, sir," pleadedmartha. "i'll send her away if she dares to say aword about such a thing," said master craven grandly. "she wouldn't like that, i can tell you.""thank you, sir," bobbing a curtsy, "i want to do my duty, sir.""what i want is your duty" said colin more grandly still. "i'll take care of you.now go away."

when the door closed behind martha, colinfound mistress mary gazing at him as if he had set her wondering. "why do you look at me like that?" he askedher. "what are you thinking about?""i am thinking about two things." "what are they? sit down and tell me.""this is the first one," said mary, seating herself on the big stool."once in india i saw a boy who was a rajah. he had rubies and emeralds and diamondsstuck all over him. he spoke to his people just as you spoke tomartha.

everybody had to do everything he toldthem--in a minute. i think they would have been killed if theyhadn't." "i shall make you tell me about rajahspresently," he said, "but first tell me what the second thing was.""i was thinking," said mary, "how different you are from dickon." "who is dickon?" he said."what a queer name!" she might as well tell him, she thought shecould talk about dickon without mentioning the secret garden. she had liked to hear martha talk abouthim.

besides, she longed to talk about him.it would seem to bring him nearer. "he is martha's brother. he is twelve years old," she explained."he is not like any one else in the world. he can charm foxes and squirrels and birdsjust as the natives in india charm snakes. he plays a very soft tune on a pipe andthey come and listen." there were some big books on a table at hisside and he dragged one suddenly toward "there is a picture of a snake-charmer inthis," he exclaimed. "come and look at it." the book was a beautiful one with superbcolored illustrations and he turned to one

of them."can he do that?" he asked eagerly. "he played on his pipe and they listened,"mary explained. "but he doesn't call it magic.he says it's because he lives on the moor so much and he knows their ways. he says he feels sometimes as if he was abird or a rabbit himself, he likes them so. i think he asked the robin questions.it seemed as if they talked to each other in soft chirps." colin lay back on his cushion and his eyesgrew larger and larger and the spots on his cheeks burned."tell me some more about him," he said.

"he knows all about eggs and nests," marywent on. "and he knows where foxes and badgers andotters live. he keeps them secret so that other boyswon't find their holes and frighten them. he knows about everything that grows orlives on the moor." "does he like the moor?" said colin. "how can he when it's such a great, bare,dreary place?" "it's the most beautiful place," protestedmary. "thousands of lovely things grow on it andthere are thousands of little creatures all busy building nests and making holes andburrows and chippering or singing or

squeaking to each other. they are so busy and having such fun underthe earth or in the trees or heather. it's their world.""how do you know all that?" said colin, turning on his elbow to look at her. "i have never been there once, really,"said mary suddenly remembering. "i only drove over it in the dark.i thought it was hideous. martha told me about it first and thendickon. when dickon talks about it you feel as ifyou saw things and heard them and as if you were standing in the heather with the sunshining and the gorse smelling like honey--

and all full of bees and butterflies." "you never see anything if you are ill,"said colin restlessly. he looked like a person listening to a newsound in the distance and wondering what it was. "you can't if you stay in a room," saidmary. "i couldn't go on the moor," he said in aresentful tone. mary was silent for a minute and then shesaid something bold. "you might--sometime."he moved as if he were startled. "go on the moor!

how could i?i am going to die." "how do you know?" said maryunsympathetically. she didn't like the way he had of talkingabout dying. she did not feel very sympathetic.she felt rather as if he almost boasted about it. "oh, i've heard it ever since i remember,"he answered crossly. "they are always whispering about it andthinking i don't notice. they wish i would, too." mistress mary felt quite contrary.she pinched her lips together.

"if they wished i would," she said, "iwouldn't. who wishes you would?" "the servants--and of course dr. cravenbecause he would get misselthwaite and be rich instead of poor.he daren't say so, but he always looks cheerful when i am worse. when i had typhoid fever his face got quitefat. i think my father wishes it, too.""i don't believe he does," said mary quite obstinately. that made colin turn and look at her again."don't you?" he said.

and then he lay back on his cushion and wasstill, as if he were thinking. and there was quite a long silence. perhaps they were both of them thinkingstrange things children do not usually think. "i like the grand doctor from london,because he made them take the iron thing off," said mary at last "did he say youwere going to die?" "no.". "what did he say?""he didn't whisper," colin answered. "perhaps he knew i hated whispering.i heard him say one thing quite aloud.

he said, 'the lad might live if he wouldmake up his mind to it. put him in the humor.'it sounded as if he was in a temper." "i'll tell you who would put you in thehumor, perhaps," said mary reflecting. she felt as if she would like this thing tobe settled one way or the other. "i believe dickon would. he's always talking about live things.he never talks about dead things or things that are ill. he's always looking up in the sky to watchbirds flying--or looking down at the earth to see something growing.he has such round blue eyes and they are so

wide open with looking about. and he laughs such a big laugh with hiswide mouth--and his cheeks are as red--as red as cherries." she pulled her stool nearer to the sofa andher expression quite changed at the remembrance of the wide curving mouth andwide open eyes. "see here," she said. "don't let us talk about dying; i don'tlike it. let us talk about living.let us talk and talk about dickon. and then we will look at your pictures."

it was the best thing she could have said. to talk about dickon meant to talk aboutthe moor and about the cottage and the fourteen people who lived in it on sixteenshillings a week--and the children who got fat on the moor grass like the wild ponies. and about dickon's mother--and theskipping-rope--and the moor with the sun on it--and about pale green points sticking upout of the black sod. and it was all so alive that mary talkedmore than she had ever talked before--and colin both talked and listened as he hadnever done either before. and they both began to laugh over nothingsas children will when they are happy

together. and they laughed so that in the end theywere making as much noise as if they had been two ordinary healthy natural ten-year-old creatures--instead of a hard, little, unloving girl and a sickly boy who believedthat he was going to die. they enjoyed themselves so much that theyforgot the pictures and they forgot about the time. they had been laughing quite loudly overben weatherstaff and his robin, and colin was actually sitting up as if he hadforgotten about his weak back, when he suddenly remembered something.

"do you know there is one thing we havenever once thought of," he said. "we are cousins." it seemed so queer that they had talked somuch and never remembered this simple thing that they laughed more than ever, becausethey had got into the humor to laugh at anything. and in the midst of the fun the door openedand in walked dr. craven and mrs. medlock. dr. craven started in actual alarm and mrs.medlock almost fell back because he had accidentally bumped against her. "good lord!" exclaimed poor mrs. medlockwith her eyes almost starting out of her

head."good lord!" "what is this?" said dr. craven, comingforward. "what does it mean?"then mary was reminded of the boy rajah again. colin answered as if neither the doctor'salarm nor mrs. medlock's terror were of the slightest consequence. he was as little disturbed or frightened asif an elderly cat and dog had walked into the room."this is my cousin, mary lennox," he said. "i asked her to come and talk to me.

i like her.she must come and talk to me whenever i send for her."dr. craven turned reproachfully to mrs. medlock. "oh, sir" she panted."i don't know how it's happened. there's not a servant on the place tha'ddare to talk--they all have their orders." "nobody told her anything," said colin. "she heard me crying and found me herself.i am glad she came. don't be silly, medlock." mary saw that dr. craven did not lookpleased, but it was quite plain that he

dare not oppose his patient.he sat down by colin and felt his pulse. "i am afraid there has been too muchexcitement. excitement is not good for you, my boy," hesaid. "i should be excited if she kept away,"answered colin, his eyes beginning to look dangerously sparkling."i am better. she makes me better. the nurse must bring up her tea with mine.we will have tea together." mrs. medlock and dr. craven looked at eachother in a troubled way, but there was evidently nothing to be done.

"he does look rather better, sir," venturedmrs. medlock. "but"--thinking the matter over--"he lookedbetter this morning before she came into the room." "she came into the room last night.she stayed with me a long time. she sang a hindustani song to me and itmade me go to sleep," said colin. "i was better when i wakened up. i wanted my breakfast.i want my tea now. tell nurse, medlock."dr. craven did not stay very long. he talked to the nurse for a few minuteswhen she came into the room and said a few

words of warning to colin. he must not talk too much; he must notforget that he was ill; he must not forget that he was very easily tired. mary thought that there seemed to be anumber of uncomfortable things he was not to forget. colin looked fretful and kept his strangeblack-lashed eyes fixed on dr. craven's face."i want to forget it," he said at last. "she makes me forget it. that is why i want her."dr. craven did not look happy when he left

the room.he gave a puzzled glance at the little girl sitting on the large stool. she had become a stiff, silent child againas soon as he entered and he could not see what the attraction was. the boy actually did look brighter,however--and he sighed rather heavily as he went down the corridor. "they are always wanting me to eat thingswhen i don't want to," said colin, as the nurse brought in the tea and put it on thetable by the sofa. "now, if you'll eat i will.

those muffins look so nice and hot.tell me about rajahs." chapter xvnest building after another week of rain the high arch ofblue sky appeared again and the sun which poured down was quite hot. though there had been no chance to seeeither the secret garden or dickon, mistress mary had enjoyed herself verymuch. the week had not seemed long. she had spent hours of every day with colinin his room, talking about rajahs or gardens or dickon and the cottage on themoor.

they had looked at the splendid books andpictures and sometimes mary had read things to colin, and sometimes he had read alittle to her. when he was amused and interested shethought he scarcely looked like an invalid at all, except that his face was socolorless and he was always on the sofa. "you are a sly young one to listen and getout of your bed to go following things up like you did that night," mrs. medlock saidonce. "but there's no saying it's not been a sortof blessing to the lot of us. he's not had a tantrum or a whining fitsince you made friends. the nurse was just going to give up thecase because she was so sick of him, but

she says she doesn't mind staying nowyou've gone on duty with her," laughing a little. in her talks with colin, mary had tried tobe very cautious about the secret garden. there were certain things she wanted tofind out from him, but she felt that she must find them out without asking himdirect questions. in the first place, as she began to like tobe with him, she wanted to discover whether he was the kind of boy you could tell asecret to. he was not in the least like dickon, but hewas evidently so pleased with the idea of a garden no one knew anything about that shethought perhaps he could be trusted.

but she had not known him long enough to besure. the second thing she wanted to find out wasthis: if he could be trusted--if he really could--wouldn't it be possible to take himto the garden without having any one find it out? the grand doctor had said that he must havefresh air and colin had said that he would not mind fresh air in a secret garden. perhaps if he had a great deal of fresh airand knew dickon and the robin and saw things growing he might not think so muchabout dying. mary had seen herself in the glasssometimes lately when she had realized that

she looked quite a different creature fromthe child she had seen when she arrived from india. this child looked nicer.even martha had seen a change in her. "th' air from th' moor has done thee goodalready," she had said. "tha'rt not nigh so yeller and tha'rt notnigh so scrawny. even tha' hair doesn't slamp down on tha'head so flat. it's got some life in it so as it sticksout a bit." "it's like me," said mary."it's growing stronger and fatter. i'm sure there's more of it."

"it looks it, for sure," said martha,ruffling it up a little round her face. "tha'rt not half so ugly when it's that wayan' there's a bit o' red in tha' cheeks." if gardens and fresh air had been good forher perhaps they would be good for colin. but then, if he hated people to look athim, perhaps he would not like to see dickon. "why does it make you angry when you arelooked at?" she inquired one day. "i always hated it," he answered, "evenwhen i was very little. then when they took me to the seaside and iused to lie in my carriage everybody used to stare and ladies would stop and talk tomy nurse and then they would begin to

whisper and i knew then they were saying ishouldn't live to grow up. then sometimes the ladies would pat mycheeks and say 'poor child!' once when a lady did that i screamed outloud and bit her hand. she was so frightened she ran away.""she thought you had gone mad like a dog," said mary, not at all admiringly. "i don't care what she thought," saidcolin, frowning. "i wonder why you didn't scream and bite mewhen i came into your room?" said mary. then she began to smile slowly. "i thought you were a ghost or a dream," hesaid.

"you can't bite a ghost or a dream, and ifyou scream they don't care." "would you hate it if--if a boy looked atyou?" mary asked uncertainly.he lay back on his cushion and paused thoughtfully. "there's one boy," he said quite slowly, asif he were thinking over every word, "there's one boy i believe i shouldn'tmind. it's that boy who knows where the foxeslive--dickon." "i'm sure you wouldn't mind him," saidmary. "the birds don't and other animals," hesaid, still thinking it over, "perhaps

that's why i shouldn't.he's a sort of animal charmer and i am a boy animal." then he laughed and she laughed too; infact it ended in their both laughing a great deal and finding the idea of a boyanimal hiding in his hole very funny indeed. what mary felt afterward was that she neednot fear about dickon. on that first morning when the sky was blueagain mary wakened very early. the sun was pouring in slanting raysthrough the blinds and there was something so joyous in the sight of it that shejumped out of bed and ran to the window.

she drew up the blinds and opened thewindow itself and a great waft of fresh, scented air blew in upon her. the moor was blue and the whole worldlooked as if something magic had happened to it. there were tender little fluting soundshere and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for aconcert. mary put her hand out of the window andheld it in the sun. "it's warm--warm!" she said. "it will make the green points push up andup and up, and it will make the bulbs and

roots work and struggle with all theirmight under the earth." she kneeled down and leaned out of thewindow as far as she could, breathing big breaths and sniffing the air until shelaughed because she remembered what dickon's mother had said about the end ofhis nose quivering like a rabbit's. "it must be very early," she said."the little clouds are all pink and i've never seen the sky look like this. no one is up.i don't even hear the stable boys." a sudden thought made her scramble to herfeet. "i can't wait!

i am going to see the garden!"she had learned to dress herself by this time and she put on her clothes in fiveminutes. she knew a small side door which she couldunbolt herself and she flew downstairs in her stocking feet and put on her shoes inthe hall. she unchained and unbolted and unlocked andwhen the door was open she sprang across the step with one bound, and there she wasstanding on the grass, which seemed to have turned green, and with the sun pouring down on her and warm sweet wafts about her andthe fluting and twittering and singing coming from every bush and tree.

she clasped her hands for pure joy andlooked up in the sky and it was so blue and pink and pearly and white and flooded withspringtime light that she felt as if she must flute and sing aloud herself and knew that thrushes and robins and skylarks couldnot possibly help it. she ran around the shrubs and paths towardsthe secret garden. "it is all different already," she said. "the grass is greener and things aresticking up everywhere and things are uncurling and green buds of leaves areshowing. this afternoon i am sure dickon will come."

the long warm rain had done strange thingsto the herbaceous beds which bordered the walk by the lower wall. there were things sprouting and pushing outfrom the roots of clumps of plants and there were actually here and there glimpsesof royal purple and yellow unfurling among the stems of crocuses. six months before mistress mary would nothave seen how the world was waking up, but now she missed nothing. when she had reached the place where thedoor hid itself under the ivy, she was startled by a curious loud sound.

it was the caw--caw of a crow and it camefrom the top of the wall, and when she looked up, there sat a big glossy-plumagedblue-black bird, looking down at her very wisely indeed. she had never seen a crow so close beforeand he made her a little nervous, but the next moment he spread his wings and flappedaway across the garden. she hoped he was not going to stay insideand she pushed the door open wondering if he would. when she got fairly into the garden she sawthat he probably did intend to stay because he had alighted on a dwarf apple-tree andunder the apple-tree was lying a little

reddish animal with a bushy tail, and both of them were watching the stooping body andrust-red head of dickon, who was kneeling on the grass working hard.mary flew across the grass to him. "oh, dickon! dickon!" she cried out."how could you get here so early! how could you!the sun has only just got up!" he got up himself, laughing and glowing,and tousled; his eyes like a bit of the sky."eh!" he said. "i was up long before him.

how could i have stayed abed!th' world's all fair begun again this mornin', it has. an' it's workin' an' hummin' an' scratchin'an' pipin' an' nest-buildin' an' breathin' out scents, till you've got to be out on it'stead o' lyin' on your back. when th' sun did jump up, th' moor went madfor joy, an' i was in the midst of th' heather, an' i run like mad myself,shoutin' an' singin'. an' i come straight here. i couldn't have stayed away.why, th' garden was lyin' here waitin'!" mary put her hands on her chest, panting,as if she had been running herself.

dickon!" she said."i'm so happy i can scarcely breathe!" seeing him talking to a stranger, thelittle bushy-tailed animal rose from its place under the tree and came to him, andthe rook, cawing once, flew down from its branch and settled quietly on his shoulder. "this is th' little fox cub," he said,rubbing the little reddish animal's head. "it's named captain.an' this here's soot. soot he flew across th' moor with me an'captain he run same as if th' hounds had been after him.they both felt same as i did." neither of the creatures looked as if hewere the least afraid of mary.

when dickon began to walk about, sootstayed on his shoulder and captain trotted quietly close to his side. "see here!" said dickon."see how these has pushed up, an' these an' these!an' eh! look at these here!" he threw himself upon his knees and marywent down beside him. they had come upon a whole clump ofcrocuses burst into purple and orange and gold. mary bent her face down and kissed andkissed them. "you never kiss a person in that way," shesaid when she lifted her head.

"flowers are so different." he looked puzzled but smiled. "eh!" he said, "i've kissed mother many atime that way when i come in from th' moor after a day's roamin' an' she stood thereat th' door in th' sun, lookin' so glad an' comfortable." they ran from one part of the garden toanother and found so many wonders that they were obliged to remind themselves that theymust whisper or speak low. he showed her swelling leafbuds on rosebranches which had seemed dead. he showed her ten thousand new green pointspushing through the mould.

they put their eager young noses close tothe earth and sniffed its warmed springtime breathing; they dug and pulled and laughedlow with rapture until mistress mary's hair was as tumbled as dickon's and her cheekswere almost as poppy red as his. there was every joy on earth in the secretgarden that morning, and in the midst of them came a delight more delightful thanall, because it was more wonderful. swiftly something flew across the wall anddarted through the trees to a close grown corner, a little flare of red-breasted birdwith something hanging from its beak. dickon stood quite still and put his handon mary almost as if they had suddenly found themselves laughing in a church."we munnot stir," he whispered in broad

yorkshire. "we munnot scarce breathe.i knowed he was mate-huntin' when i seed him last.it's ben weatherstaff's robin. he's buildin' his nest. he'll stay here if us don't fight him."they settled down softly upon the grass and sat there without moving."us mustn't seem as if us was watchin' him too close," said dickon. "he'd be out with us for good if he got th'notion us was interferin' now. he'll be a good bit different till all thisis over.

he's settin' up housekeepin'. he'll be shyer an' readier to take thingsill. he's got no time for visitin' an'gossipin'. us must keep still a bit an' try to look asif us was grass an' trees an' bushes. then when he's got used to seein' us i'llchirp a bit an' he'll know us'll not be in his way." mistress mary was not at all sure that sheknew, as dickon seemed to, how to try to look like grass and trees and bushes. but he had said the queer thing as if itwere the simplest and most natural thing in

the world, and she felt it must be quiteeasy to him, and indeed she watched him for a few minutes carefully, wondering if it was possible for him to quietly turn greenand put out branches and leaves. but he only sat wonderfully still, and whenhe spoke dropped his voice to such a softness that it was curious that she couldhear him, but she could. "it's part o' th' springtime, this nest-buildin' is," he said. "i warrant it's been goin' on in th' sameway every year since th' world was begun. they've got their way o' thinkin' and doin'things an' a body had better not meddle. you can lose a friend in springtime easierthan any other season if you're too

curious." "if we talk about him i can't help lookingat him," mary said as softly as possible. "we must talk of something else.there is something i want to tell you." "he'll like it better if us talks o'somethin' else," said dickon. "what is it tha's got to tell me?""well--do you know about colin?" she whispered. he turned his head to look at her."what does tha' know about him?" he asked. "i've seen him.i have been to talk to him every day this week.

he wants me to come.he says i'm making him forget about being ill and dying," answered mary.dickon looked actually relieved as soon as the surprise died away from his round face. "i am glad o' that," he exclaimed."i'm right down glad. it makes me easier.i knowed i must say nothin' about him an' i don't like havin' to hide things." "don't you like hiding the garden?" saidmary. "i'll never tell about it," he answered."but i says to mother, 'mother,' i says, 'i got a secret to keep.

it's not a bad 'un, tha' knows that.it's no worse than hidin' where a bird's nest is.tha' doesn't mind it, does tha'?'" mary always wanted to hear about mother. "what did she say?" she asked, not at allafraid to hear. dickon grinned sweet-temperedly."it was just like her, what she said," he answered. "she give my head a bit of a rub an'laughed an' she says, 'eh, lad, tha' can have all th' secrets tha' likes.i've knowed thee twelve year'.'" "how did you know about colin?" asked mary.

"everybody as knowed about mester cravenknowed there was a little lad as was like to be a cripple, an' they knowed mestercraven didn't like him to be talked about. folks is sorry for mester craven becausemrs. craven was such a pretty young lady an' they was so fond of each other. mrs. medlock stops in our cottage whenevershe goes to thwaite an' she doesn't mind talkin' to mother before us children,because she knows us has been brought up to be trusty. how did tha' find out about him?martha was in fine trouble th' last time she came home.

she said tha'd heard him frettin' an' tha'was askin' questions an' she didn't know what to say." mary told him her story about the midnightwuthering of the wind which had wakened her and about the faint far-off sounds of thecomplaining voice which had led her down the dark corridors with her candle and had ended with her opening of the door of thedimly lighted room with the carven four- posted bed in the corner. when she described the small ivory-whiteface and the strange black-rimmed eyes dickon shook his head.

"them's just like his mother's eyes, onlyhers was always laughin', they say," he "they say as mr. craven can't bear to seehim when he's awake an' it's because his eyes is so like his mother's an' yet looksso different in his miserable bit of a face." "do you think he wants to die?" whisperedmary. "no, but he wishes he'd never been born.mother she says that's th' worst thing on earth for a child. them as is not wanted scarce ever thrives.mester craven he'd buy anythin' as money could buy for th' poor lad but he'd like toforget as he's on earth.

for one thing, he's afraid he'll look athim some day and find he's growed hunchback.""colin's so afraid of it himself that he won't sit up," said mary. "he says he's always thinking that if heshould feel a lump coming he should go crazy and scream himself to death.""eh! he oughtn't to lie there thinkin' things like that," said dickon. "no lad could get well as thought them sorto' things." the fox was lying on the grass close byhim, looking up to ask for a pat now and then, and dickon bent down and rubbed hisneck softly and thought a few minutes in

silence. presently he lifted his head and lookedround the garden. "when first we got in here," he said, "itseemed like everything was gray. look round now and tell me if tha' doesn'tsee a difference." mary looked and caught her breath a little."why!" she cried, "the gray wall is changing. it is as if a green mist were creeping overit. it's almost like a green gauze veil.""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 hewouldn't be watchin' for lumps to grow on his back; he'd be watchin' for buds tobreak on th' rose-bushes, an' he'd likely be healthier," explained dickon. "i was wonderin' if us could ever get himin 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'vetalked to him," said mary.

"i've wondered if he could keep a secretand i've wondered if we could bring him here without any one seeing us. i thought perhaps you could push hiscarriage. the doctor said he must have fresh air andif he wants us to take him out no one dare disobey him. he won't go out for other people andperhaps 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 hescratched captain's back.

"it'd be good for him, i'll warrant," hesaid. "us'd not be thinkin' he'd better neverbeen born. us'd be just two children watchin' a gardengrow, an' he'd be another. two lads an' a little lass just lookin' onat th' springtime. i warrant it'd be better than doctor'sstuff." "he's been lying in his room so long andhe'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 noticethings 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 hewanted to see it." "us'll have him out here sometime forsure," said dickon. "i could push his carriage well enough. has tha' noticed how th' robin an' his matehas been workin' while we've been sittin' here? look at him perched on that branchwonderin' where it'd be best to put that twig he's got in his beak."

he made one of his low whistling calls andthe robin turned his head and looked at him inquiringly, still holding his twig. dickon spoke to him as ben weatherstaffdid, 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 beforetha' 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 ifhe understood every word, and i know he likes it. ben weatherstaff says he is so conceited hewould rather have stones thrown at him than not be noticed."dickon laughed too and went on talking. "tha' knows us won't trouble thee," he saidto the robin. "us is near bein' wild things ourselves.us is nest-buildin' too, bless thee. look out tha' doesn't tell on us." and though the robin did not answer,because his beak was occupied, mary knew that when he flew away with his twig to hisown corner of the garden the darkness of

his dew-bright eye meant that he would nottell their secret for the world. chapter xvi"i won't!" said mary they found a great deal to do that morningand mary was late in returning to the house and was also in such a hurry to get back toher work that she quite forgot colin until the last moment. "tell colin that i can't come and see himyet," she said to martha. "i'm very busy in the garden."martha looked rather frightened. "eh! miss mary," she said, "it may put himall out of humor when i tell him that."

but mary was not as afraid of him as otherpeople were and she was not a self- sacrificing person. "i can't stay," she answered."dickon's waiting for me;" and she ran away.the afternoon was even lovelier and busier than the morning had been. already nearly all the weeds were clearedout of the garden and most of the roses and trees had been pruned or dug about. dickon had brought a spade of his own andhe had taught mary to use all her tools, so that by this time it was plain that thoughthe lovely wild place was not likely to

become a "gardener's garden" it would be a wilderness of growing things before thespringtime was over. "there'll be apple blossoms an' cherryblossoms overhead," dickon said, working away with all his might. "an' there'll be peach an' plum trees inbloom against th' walls, an' th' grass'll be a carpet o' flowers." the little fox and the rook were as happyand busy as they were, and the robin and his mate flew backward and forward liketiny streaks of lightning. sometimes the rook flapped his black wingsand soared away over the tree-tops in the

park. each time he came back and perched neardickon and cawed several times as if he were relating his adventures, and dickontalked to him just as he had talked to the robin. once when dickon was so busy that he didnot answer him at first, soot flew on to his shoulders and gently tweaked his earwith his large beak. when mary wanted to rest a little dickonsat down with her under a tree and once he took his pipe out of his pocket and playedthe soft strange little notes and two squirrels appeared on the wall and lookedand listened.

"tha's a good bit stronger than tha' was,"dickon said, looking at her as she was digging. "tha's beginning to look different, forsure." mary was glowing with exercise and goodspirits. "i'm getting fatter and fatter every day,"she said quite exultantly. "mrs. medlock will have to get me somebigger dresses. martha says my hair is growing thicker. it isn't so flat and stringy."the sun was beginning to set and sending deep gold-colored rays slanting under thetrees when they parted.

"it'll be fine tomorrow," said dickon. "i'll be at work by sunrise.""so will i," said mary. she ran back to the house as quickly as herfeet would carry her. she wanted to tell colin about dickon's foxcub and the rook and about what the springtime had been doing.she felt sure he would like to hear. so it was not very pleasant when she openedthe door of her room, to see martha standing waiting for her with a dolefulface. "what is the matter?" she asked. "what did colin say when you told him icouldn't come?"

"eh!" said martha, "i wish tha'd gone.he was nigh goin' into one o' his tantrums. there's been a nice to do all afternoon tokeep him quiet. he would watch the clock all th' time."mary's lips pinched themselves together. she was no more used to considering otherpeople than colin was and she saw no reason why an ill-tempered boy should interferewith the thing she liked best. she knew nothing about the pitifulness ofpeople who had been ill and nervous and who did not know that they could control theirtempers and need not make other people ill and nervous, too. when she had had a headache in india shehad done her best to see that everybody

else also had a headache or something quiteas bad. and she felt she was quite right; but ofcourse now she felt that colin was quite wrong.he was not on his sofa when she went into his room. he was lying flat on his back in bed and hedid not turn his head toward her as she came in.this was a bad beginning and mary marched up to him with her stiff manner. "why didn't you get up?" she said."i did get up this morning when i thought you were coming," he answered, withoutlooking at her.

"i made them put me back in bed thisafternoon. my back ached and my head ached and i wastired. why didn't you come?" "i was working in the garden with dickon,"said mary. colin frowned and condescended to look ather. "i won't let that boy come here if you goand stay with him instead of coming to talk to me," he said.mary flew into a fine passion. she could fly into a passion without makinga noise. she just grew sour and obstinate and didnot care what happened.

"if you send dickon away, i'll never comeinto this room again!" she retorted. "you'll have to if i want you," said colin."i won't!" said mary. "i'll make you," said colin. "they shall drag you in.""shall they, mr. rajah!" said mary fiercely."they may drag me in but they can't make me talk when they get me here. i'll sit and clench my teeth and never tellyou one thing. i won't even look at you.i'll stare at the floor!" they were a nice agreeable pair as theyglared at each other.

if they had been two little street boysthey would have sprung at each other and had a rough-and-tumble fight. as it was, they did the next thing to it."you are a selfish thing!" cried colin. "what are you?" said mary."selfish people always say that. any one is selfish who doesn't do what theywant. you're more selfish than i am.you're the most selfish boy i ever saw." "i'm not!" snapped colin. "i'm not as selfish as your fine dickon is!he keeps you playing in the dirt when he knows i am all by myself.he's selfish, if you like!"

mary's eyes flashed fire. "he's nicer than any other boy that everlived!" she said. "he's--he's like an angel!"it might sound rather silly to say that but she did not care. "a nice angel!"colin sneered ferociously. "he's a common cottage boy off the moor!""he's better than a common rajah!" retorted "he's a thousand times better!"because she was the stronger of the two she was beginning to get the better of him. the truth was that he had never had a fightwith any one like himself in his life and,

upon the whole, it was rather good for him,though neither he nor mary knew anything about that. he turned his head on his pillow and shuthis eyes and a big tear was squeezed out and ran down his cheek.he was beginning to feel pathetic and sorry for himself--not for any one else. "i'm not as selfish as you, because i'malways ill, and i'm sure there is a lump coming on my back," he said."and i am going to die besides." "you're not!" contradicted maryunsympathetically. he opened his eyes quite wide withindignation.

he had never heard such a thing saidbefore. he was at once furious and slightlypleased, if a person could be both at one time. "i'm not?" he cried."i am! you know i am!everybody says so." "i don't believe it!" said mary sourly. "you just say that to make people sorry.i believe you're proud of it. i don't believe it!if you were a nice boy it might be true-- but you're too nasty!"

in spite of his invalid back colin sat upin bed in quite a healthy rage. "get out of the room!" he shouted and hecaught hold of his pillow and threw it at her. he was not strong enough to throw it farand it only fell at her feet, but mary's face looked as pinched as a nutcracker."i'm going," she said. "and i won't come back!" she walked to the door and when she reachedit she turned round and spoke again. "i was going to tell you all sorts of nicethings," she said. "dickon brought his fox and his rook and iwas going to tell you all about them.

now i won't tell you a single thing!" she marched out of the door and closed itbehind her, and there to her great astonishment she found the trained nursestanding as if she had been listening and, more amazing still--she was laughing. she was a big handsome young woman whoought not to have been a trained nurse at all, as she could not bear invalids and shewas always making excuses to leave colin to martha or any one else who would take herplace. mary had never liked her, and she simplystood and gazed up at her as she stood giggling into her handkerchief..

"what are you laughing at?" she asked her."at you two young ones," said the nurse. "it's the best thing that could happen tothe sickly pampered thing to have some one to stand up to him that's as spoiled ashimself;" and she laughed into her handkerchief again. "if he'd had a young vixen of a sister tofight with it would have been the saving of him.""is he going to die?" "i don't know and i don't care," said thenurse. "hysterics and temper are half what ailshim." "what are hysterics?" asked mary.

"you'll find out if you work him into atantrum after this--but at any rate you've given him something to have hystericsabout, and i'm glad of it." mary went back to her room not feeling atall as she had felt when she had come in from the garden.she was cross and disappointed but not at all sorry for colin. she had looked forward to telling him agreat many things and she had meant to try to make up her mind whether it would besafe to trust him with the great secret. she had been beginning to think it wouldbe, but now she had changed her mind entirely.

she would never tell him and he could stayin his room and never get any fresh air and die if he liked!it would serve him right! she felt so sour and unrelenting that for afew minutes she almost forgot about dickon and the green veil creeping over the worldand the soft wind blowing down from the moor. martha was waiting for her and the troublein her face had been temporarily replaced by interest and curiosity. there was a wooden box on the table and itscover had been removed and revealed that it was full of neat packages."mr. craven sent it to you," said martha.

"it looks as if it had picture-books init." mary remembered what he had asked her theday she had gone to his room. "do you want anything--dolls--toys--books?" she opened the package wondering if he hadsent a doll, and also wondering what she should do with it if he had.but he had not sent one. there were several beautiful books such ascolin had, and two of them were about gardens and were full of pictures. there were two or three games and there wasa beautiful little writing-case with a gold monogram on it and a gold pen and inkstand.everything was so nice that her pleasure

began to crowd her anger out of her mind. she had not expected him to remember her atall and her hard little heart grew quite warm. "i can write better than i can print," shesaid, "and the first thing i shall write with that pen will be a letter to tell himi am much obliged." if she had been friends with colin shewould have run to show him her presents at once, and they would have looked at thepictures and read some of the gardening books and perhaps tried playing the games, and he would have enjoyed himself so muchhe would never once have thought he was

going to die or have put his hand on hisspine to see if there was a lump coming. he had a way of doing that which she couldnot bear. it gave her an uncomfortable frightenedfeeling because he always looked so frightened himself. he said that if he felt even quite a littlelump some day he should know his hunch had begun to grow. something he had heard mrs. medlockwhispering to the nurse had given him the idea and he had thought over it in secretuntil it was quite firmly fixed in his mind.

mrs. medlock had said his father's back hadbegun to show its crookedness in that way when he was a child. he had never told any one but mary thatmost of his "tantrums" as they called them grew out of his hysterical hidden fear.mary had been sorry for him when he had told her. "he always began to think about it when hewas cross or tired," she said to herself. "and he has been cross today.perhaps--perhaps he has been thinking about it all afternoon." she stood still, looking down at the carpetand thinking.

"i said i would never go back again--" shehesitated, knitting her brows--"but perhaps, just perhaps, i will go and see--if he wants me--in the morning. perhaps he'll try to throw his pillow at meagain, but--i think--i'll go." chapter xviia tantrum she had got up very early in the morningand had worked hard in the garden and she was tired and sleepy, so as soon as marthahad brought her supper and she had eaten it, she was glad to go to bed. as she laid her head on the pillow shemurmured to herself: "i'll go out before breakfast and work withdickon and then afterward--i believe--i'll

go to see him." she thought it was the middle of the nightwhen she was awakened by such dreadful sounds that she jumped out of bed in aninstant. what was it--what was it? the next minute she felt quite sure sheknew. doors were opened and shut and there werehurrying feet in the corridors and some one was crying and screaming at the same time,screaming and crying in a horrible way. "it's colin," she said. "he's having one of those tantrums thenurse called hysterics.

how awful it sounds." as she listened to the sobbing screams shedid not wonder that people were so frightened that they gave him his own wayin everything rather than hear them. she put her hands over her ears and feltsick and shivering. "i don't know what to do.i don't know what to do," she kept saying. "i can't bear it." once she wondered if he would stop if shedared go to him and then she remembered how he had driven her out of the room andthought that perhaps the sight of her might make him worse.

even when she pressed her hands moretightly over her ears she could not keep the awful sounds out. she hated them so and was so terrified bythem that suddenly they began to make her angry and she felt as if she should like tofly into a tantrum herself and frighten him as he was frightening her. she was not used to any one's tempers buther own. she took her hands from her ears and sprangup and stamped her foot. "he ought to be stopped! somebody ought to make him stop!somebody ought to beat him!" she cried out.

just then she heard feet almost runningdown the corridor and her door opened and the nurse came in. she was not laughing now by any means.she even looked rather pale. "he's worked himself into hysterics," shesaid in a great hurry. "he'll do himself harm. no one can do anything with him.you come and try, like a good child. he likes you." "he turned me out of the room thismorning," said mary, stamping her foot with excitement.the stamp rather pleased the nurse.

the truth was that she had been afraid shemight find mary crying and hiding her head under the bed-clothes."that's right," she said. "you're in the right humor. you go and scold him.give him something new to think of. do go, child, as quick as ever you can." it was not until afterward that maryrealized that the thing had been funny as well as dreadful--that it was funny thatall the grown-up people were so frightened that they came to a little girl just because they guessed she was almost as badas colin himself.

she flew along the corridor and the nearershe got to the screams the higher her temper mounted. she felt quite wicked by the time shereached the door. she slapped it open with her hand and ranacross the room to the four-posted bed. "you stop!" she almost shouted. "you stop!i hate you! everybody hates you!i wish everybody would run out of the house and let you scream yourself to death! you will scream yourself to death in aminute, and i wish you would!"

a nice sympathetic child could neither havethought nor said such things, but it just happened that the shock of hearing them wasthe best possible thing for this hysterical boy whom no one had ever dared to restrainor contradict. he had been lying on his face beating hispillow with his hands and he actually almost jumped around, he turned so quicklyat the sound of the furious little voice. his face looked dreadful, white and red andswollen, and he was gasping and choking; but savage little mary did not care anatom. "if you scream another scream," she said,"i'll scream too--and i can scream louder than you can and i'll frighten you, i'llfrighten you!"

he actually had stopped screaming becauseshe had startled him so. the scream which had been coming almostchoked him. the tears were streaming down his face andhe shook all over. "i can't stop!" he gasped and sobbed."i can't--i can't!" "you can!" shouted mary. "half that ails you is hysterics andtemper--just hysterics--hysterics-- hysterics!" and she stamped each time shesaid it. "i felt the lump--i felt it," choked outcolin. "i knew i should.

i shall have a hunch on my back and then ishall die," and he began to writhe again and turned on his face and sobbed andwailed but he didn't scream. "you didn't feel a lump!" contradicted maryfiercely. "if you did it was only a hysterical lump.hysterics makes lumps. there's nothing the matter with your horridback--nothing but hysterics! turn over and let me look at it!"she liked the word "hysterics" and felt somehow as if it had an effect on him. he was probably like herself and had neverheard it before. "nurse," she commanded, "come here and showme his back this minute!"

the nurse, mrs. medlock and martha had beenstanding huddled together near the door staring at her, their mouths half open.all three had gasped with fright more than once. the nurse came forward as if she were halfafraid. colin was heaving with great breathlesssobs. "perhaps he--he won't let me," shehesitated in a low voice. colin heard her, however, and he gasped outbetween two sobs: "sh-show her! she-she'll see then!"it was a poor thin back to look at when it

was bared. every rib could be counted and every jointof the spine, though mistress mary did not count them as she bent over and examinedthem with a solemn savage little face. she looked so sour and old-fashioned thatthe nurse turned her head aside to hide the twitching of her mouth. there was just a minute's silence, for evencolin tried to hold his breath while mary looked up and down his spine, and down andup, as intently as if she had been the great doctor from london. "there's not a single lump there!" she saidat last.

"there's not a lump as big as a pin--exceptbackbone lumps, and you can only feel them because you're thin. i've got backbone lumps myself, and theyused to stick out as much as yours do, until i began to get fatter, and i am notfat enough yet to hide them. there's not a lump as big as a pin! if you ever say there is again, i shalllaugh!" no one but colin himself knew what effectthose crossly spoken childish words had on if he had ever had any one to talk to abouthis secret terrors--if he had ever dared to let himself ask questions--if he had hadchildish companions and had not lain on his

back in the huge closed house, breathing an atmosphere heavy with the fears of peoplewho were most of them ignorant and tired of him, he would have found out that most ofhis fright and illness was created by himself. but he had lain and thought of himself andhis aches and weariness for hours and days and months and years. and now that an angry unsympathetic littlegirl insisted obstinately that he was not as ill as he thought he was he actuallyfelt as if she might be speaking the truth. "i didn't know," ventured the nurse, "thathe thought he had a lump on his spine.

his back is weak because he won't try tosit up. i could have told him there was no lumpthere." colin gulped and turned his face a littleto look at her. "c-could you?" he said pathetically. "yes, sir.""there!" said mary, and she gulped too. colin turned on his face again and but forhis long-drawn broken breaths, which were the dying down of his storm of sobbing, helay still for a minute, though great tears streamed down his face and wet the pillow. actually the tears meant that a curiousgreat relief had come to him.

presently he turned and looked at the nurseagain and strangely enough he was not like a rajah at all as he spoke to her. "do you think--i could--live to grow up?"he said. the nurse was neither clever nor soft-hearted but she could repeat some of the london doctor's words. "you probably will if you will do what youare told to do and not give way to your temper, and stay out a great deal in thefresh air." colin's tantrum had passed and he was weakand worn out with crying and this perhaps made him feel gentle.

he put out his hand a little toward mary,and i am glad to say that, her own tantum having passed, she was softened too and methim half-way with her hand, so that it was a sort of making up. "i'll--i'll go out with you, mary," hesaid. "i shan't hate fresh air if we can find--"he remembered just in time to stop himself from saying "if we can find the secretgarden" and he ended, "i shall like to go out with you if dickon will come and pushmy chair. i do so want to see dickon and the fox andthe crow." the nurse remade the tumbled bed and shookand straightened the pillows.

then she made colin a cup of beef tea andgave a cup to mary, who really was very glad to get it after her excitement. mrs. medlock and martha gladly slippedaway, and after everything was neat and calm and in order the nurse looked as ifshe would very gladly slip away also. she was a healthy young woman who resentedbeing robbed of her sleep and she yawned quite openly as she looked at mary, who hadpushed her big footstool close to the four- posted bed and was holding colin's hand. "you must go back and get your sleep out,"she said. "he'll drop off after a while--if he's nottoo upset.

then i'll lie down myself in the nextroom." "would you like me to sing you that song ilearned from my ayah?" mary whispered to colin. his hand pulled hers gently and he turnedhis tired eyes on her appealingly. "oh, yes!" he answered."it's such a soft song. i shall go to sleep in a minute." "i will put him to sleep," mary said to theyawning nurse. "you can go if you like.""well," said the nurse, with an attempt at reluctance.

"if he doesn't go to sleep in half an houryou must call me." "very well," answered mary. the nurse was out of the room in a minuteand as soon as she was gone colin pulled mary's hand again."i almost told," he said; "but i stopped myself in time. i won't talk and i'll go to sleep, but yousaid you had a whole lot of nice things to tell me. have you--do you think you have found outanything at all about the way into the secret garden?"mary looked at his poor little tired face

and swollen eyes and her heart relented. "ye-es," she answered, "i think i have.and if you will go to sleep i will tell you tomorrow."his hand quite trembled. "oh, mary!" he said. "oh, mary!if i could get into it i think i should live to grow up! do you suppose that instead of singing theayah song--you could just tell me softly as you did that first day what you imagine itlooks like inside? i am sure it will make me go to sleep."

"yes," answered mary."shut your eyes." he closed his eyes and lay quite still andshe held his hand and began to speak very slowly and in a very low voice. "i think it has been left alone so long--that it has grown all into a lovely tangle. i think the roses have climbed and climbedand climbed until they hang from the branches and walls and creep over theground--almost like a strange gray mist. some of them have died but many--are aliveand when the summer comes there will be curtains and fountains of roses. i think the ground is full of daffodils andsnowdrops and lilies and iris working their

way out of the dark.now the spring has begun--perhaps--perhaps- -" the soft drone of her voice was making himstiller and stiller and she saw it and went on. "perhaps they are coming up through thegrass--perhaps there are clusters of purple crocuses and gold ones--even now. perhaps the leaves are beginning to breakout and uncurl--and perhaps--the gray is changing and a green gauze veil iscreeping--and creeping over--everything. and the birds are coming to look at it--because it is--so safe and still.

and perhaps--perhaps--perhaps--" verysoftly and slowly indeed, "the robin has found a mate--and is building a nest." and colin was asleep. chapter xviii"tha' munnot waste no time" of course mary did not waken early the nextmorning. she slept late because she was tired, andwhen martha brought her breakfast she told her that though. colin was quite quiet he was ill andfeverish as he always was after he had worn himself out with a fit of crying.mary ate her breakfast slowly as she

"he says he wishes tha' would please go andsee him as soon as tha' can," martha said. "it's queer what a fancy he's took to thee.tha' did give it him last night for sure-- didn't tha? nobody else would have dared to do it.eh! poor lad! he's been spoiled till salt won't save him. mother says as th' two worst things as canhappen to a child is never to have his own way--or always to have it.she doesn't know which is th' worst. tha' was in a fine temper tha'self, too. but he says to me when i went into hisroom, 'please ask miss mary if she'll

please come an' talk to me?'think o' him saying please! will you go, miss?" "i'll run and see dickon first," said mary."no, i'll go and see colin first and tell him--i know what i'll tell him," with asudden inspiration. she had her hat on when she appeared incolin's room and for a second he looked disappointed.he was in bed. his face was pitifully white and there weredark circles round his eyes. "i'm glad you came," he said."my head aches and i ache all over because i'm so tired.

are you going somewhere?"mary went and leaned against his bed. "i won't be long," she said."i'm going to dickon, but i'll come back. colin, it's--it's something about thegarden." his whole face brightened and a littlecolor came into it. "oh! is it?" he cried out. "i dreamed about it all night i heard yousay something about gray changing into green, and i dreamed i was standing in aplace all filled with trembling little green leaves--and there were birds on nests everywhere and they looked so soft andstill.

i'll lie and think about it until you comeback." in five minutes mary was with dickon intheir garden. the fox and the crow were with him againand this time he had brought two tame squirrels. "i came over on the pony this mornin'," hesaid. "eh! he is a good little chap--jump is!i brought these two in my pockets. this here one he's called nut an' this hereother one's called shell." when he said "nut" one squirrel leaped onto his right shoulder and when he said "shell" the other one leaped on to his leftshoulder.

when they sat down on the grass withcaptain curled at their feet, soot solemnly listening on a tree and nut and shellnosing about close to them, it seemed to mary that it would be scarcely bearable to leave such delightfulness, but when shebegan to tell her story somehow the look in dickon's funny face gradually changed hermind. she could see he felt sorrier for colinthan she did. he looked up at the sky and all about him. "just listen to them birds--th' world seemsfull of 'em--all whistlin' an' pipin'," he said."look at 'em dartin' about, an' hearken at

'em callin' to each other. come springtime seems like as if all th'world's callin'. the leaves is uncurlin' so you can see 'em--an', my word, th' nice smells there is about!" sniffing with his happy turned-upnose. "an' that poor lad lyin' shut up an' seein'so little that he gets to thinkin' o' things as sets him screamin'. eh! my! we mun get him out here--we mun gethim watchin' an listenin' an' sniffin' up th' air an' get him just soaked through wi'sunshine. an' we munnot lose no time about it."

when he was very much interested he oftenspoke quite broad yorkshire though at other times he tried to modify his dialect sothat mary could better understand. but she loved his broad yorkshire and hadin fact been trying to learn to speak it herself.so she spoke a little now. "aye, that we mun," she said (which meant"yes, indeed, we must"). "i'll tell thee what us'll do first," sheproceeded, and dickon grinned, because when the little wench tried to twist her tongueinto speaking yorkshire it amused him very much. "he's took a graidely fancy to thee.he wants to see thee and he wants to see

soot an' captain. when i go back to the house to talk to himi'll ax him if tha' canna' come an' see him tomorrow mornin'--an'. bring tha' creatureswi' thee--an' then--in a bit, when there's more leaves out, an' happen a bud or two, we'll get him to come out an' tha' shallpush him in his chair an' we'll bring him here an' show him everything."when she stopped she was quite proud of herself. she had never made a long speech inyorkshire before and she had remembered very well."tha' mun talk a bit o' yorkshire like that

to mester colin," dickon chuckled. "tha'll make him laugh an' there's nowt asgood for ill folk as laughin' is. mother says she believes as half a hour'sgood laugh every mornin' 'ud cure a chap as was makin' ready for typhus fever." "i'm going to talk yorkshire to him thisvery day," said mary, chuckling herself. the garden had reached the time when everyday and every night it seemed as if magicians were passing through it drawingloveliness out of the earth and the boughs with wands. it was hard to go away and leave it all,particularly as nut had actually crept on

to her dress and shell had scrambled downthe trunk of the apple-tree they sat under and stayed there looking at her withinquiring eyes. but she went back to the house and when shesat down close to colin's bed he began to sniff as dickon did though not in such anexperienced way. "you smell like flowers and--and freshthings," he cried out quite joyously. "what is it you smell of?it's cool and warm and sweet all at the same time." "it's th' wind from th' moor," said mary."it comes o' sittin' on th' grass under a tree wi' dickon an' wi' captain an' sootan' nut an' shell.

it's th' springtime an' out o' doors an'sunshine as smells so graidely." she said it as broadly as she could, andyou do not know how broadly yorkshire sounds until you have heard some one speakit. colin began to laugh. "what are you doing?" he said."i never heard you talk like that before. how funny it sounds.""i'm givin' thee a bit o' yorkshire," answered mary triumphantly. "i canna' talk as graidely as dickon an'martha can but tha' sees i can shape a bit. doesn't tha' understand a bit o' yorkshirewhen tha' hears it?

an' tha' a yorkshire lad thysel' bred an'born! eh! i wonder tha'rt not ashamed o' thyface." and then she began to laugh too and theyboth laughed until they could not stop themselves and they laughed until the roomechoed and mrs. medlock opening the door to come in drew back into the corridor andstood listening amazed. "well, upon my word!" she said, speakingrather broad yorkshire herself because there was no one to hear her and she was soastonished. "whoever heard th' like! whoever on earth would ha' thought it!"there was so much to talk about.

it seemed as if colin could never hearenough of dickon and captain and soot and nut and shell and the pony whose name wasjump. mary had run round into the wood withdickon to see jump. he was a tiny little shaggy moor pony withthick locks hanging over his eyes and with a pretty face and a nuzzling velvet nose. he was rather thin with living on moorgrass but he was as tough and wiry as if the muscle in his little legs had been madeof steel springs. he had lifted his head and whinnied softlythe moment he saw dickon and he had trotted up to him and put his head across hisshoulder and then dickon had talked into

his ear and jump had talked back in oddlittle whinnies and puffs and snorts. dickon had made him give mary his smallfront hoof and kiss her on her cheek with his velvet muzzle. "does he really understand everythingdickon says?" colin asked."it seems as if he does," answered mary. "dickon says anything will understand ifyou're friends with it for sure, but you have to be friends for sure." colin lay quiet a little while and hisstrange gray eyes seemed to be staring at the wall, but mary saw he was thinking."i wish i was friends with things," he said

at last, "but i'm not. i never had anything to be friends with,and i can't bear people." "can't you bear me?" asked mary."yes, i can," he answered. "it's funny but i even like you." "ben weatherstaff said i was like him,"said mary. "he said he'd warrant we'd both got thesame nasty tempers. i think you are like him too. we are all three alike--you and i and benweatherstaff. he said we were neither of us much to lookat and we were as sour as we looked.

but i don't feel as sour as i used tobefore i knew the robin and dickon." "did you feel as if you hated people?""yes," answered mary without any affectation. "i should have detested you if i had seenyou before i saw the robin and dickon." colin put out his thin hand and touchedher. "mary," he said, "i wish i hadn't said whati did about sending dickon away. i hated you when you said he was like anangel and i laughed at you but--but perhaps he is." "well, it was rather funny to say it," sheadmitted frankly, "because his nose does

turn up and he has a big mouth and hisclothes have patches all over them and he talks broad yorkshire, but--but if an angel did come to yorkshire and live on the moor--if there was a yorkshire angel--i believe he'd understand the green things and knowhow to make them grow and he would know how to talk to the wild creatures as dickon does and they'd know he was friends forsure." "i shouldn't mind dickon looking at me,"said colin; "i want to see him." "i'm glad you said that," answered mary,"because--because--" quite suddenly it came into her mind thatthis was the minute to tell him.

colin knew something new was coming. "because what?" he cried eagerly.mary was so anxious that she got up from her stool and came to him and caught holdof both his hands. "can i trust you? i trusted dickon because birds trusted him.can i trust you--for sure--for sure?" she implored.her face was so solemn that he almost whispered his answer. "yes--yes!""well, dickon will come to see you tomorrow morning, and he'll bring his creatures withhim."

"oh! oh!" colin cried out in delight."but that's not all," mary went on, almost pale with solemn excitement."the rest is better. there is a door into the garden. i found it.it is under the ivy on the wall." if he had been a strong healthy boy colinwould probably have shouted "hooray! hooray! hooray!" but he was weak and ratherhysterical; his eyes grew bigger and bigger and he gasped for breath."oh! mary!" he cried out with a half sob.

"shall i see it? shall i get into it?shall i live to get into it?" and he clutched her hands and dragged her towardhim. "of course you'll see it!" snapped maryindignantly. "of course you'll live to get into it!don't be silly!" and she was so un-hysterical and naturaland childish that she brought him to his senses and he began to laugh at himself anda few minutes afterward she was sitting on her stool again telling him not what she imagined the secret garden to be like butwhat it really was, and colin's aches and

tiredness were forgotten and he waslistening enraptured. "it is just what you thought it would be,"he said at last. "it sounds just as if you had really seenit. you know i said that when you told mefirst." mary hesitated about two minutes and thenboldly spoke the truth. "i had seen it--and i had been in," shesaid. "i found the key and got in weeks ago. but i daren't tell you--i daren't because iwas so afraid i couldn't trust you--for sure!"

chapter xix"it has come!" of course dr. craven had been sent for themorning after colin had had his tantrum. he was always sent for at once when such athing occurred and he always found, when he arrived, a white shaken boy lying on hisbed, sulky and still so hysterical that he was ready to break into fresh sobbing atthe least word. in fact, dr. craven dreaded and detestedthe difficulties of these visits. on this occasion he was away frommisselthwaite manor until afternoon. "how is he?" he asked mrs. medlock ratherirritably when he arrived. "he will break a blood-vessel in one ofthose fits some day.

the boy is half insane with hysteria andself-indulgence." "well, sir," answered mrs. medlock, "you'llscarcely believe your eyes when you see him.that plain sour-faced child that's almost as bad as himself has just bewitched him. how she's done it there's no telling.the lord knows she's nothing to look at and you scarcely ever hear her speak, but shedid what none of us dare do. she just flew at him like a little cat lastnight, and stamped her feet and ordered him to stop screaming, and somehow she startledhim so that he actually did stop, and this afternoon--well just come up and see, sir.

it's past crediting."the scene which dr. craven beheld when he entered his patient's room was indeedrather astonishing to him. as mrs. medlock opened the door he heardlaughing and chattering. colin was on his sofa in his dressing-gownand he was sitting up quite straight looking at a picture in one of the gardenbooks and talking to the plain child who at that moment could scarcely be called plain at all because her face was so glowing withenjoyment. "those long spires of blue ones--we'll havea lot of those," colin was announcing. "they're called del-phin-iums."

"dickon says they're larkspurs made big andgrand," cried mistress mary. "there are clumps there already."then they saw dr. craven and stopped. mary became quite still and colin lookedfretful. "i am sorry to hear you were ill lastnight, my boy," dr. craven said a trifle nervously. he was rather a nervous man."i'm better now--much better," colin answered, rather like a rajah."i'm going out in my chair in a day or two if it is fine. i want some fresh air."dr. craven sat down by him and felt his

pulse and looked at him curiously. "it must be a very fine day," he said, "andyou must be very careful not to tire yourself.""fresh air won't tire me," said the young rajah. as there had been occasions when this sameyoung gentleman had shrieked aloud with rage and had insisted that fresh air wouldgive him cold and kill him, it is not to be wondered at that his doctor felt somewhatstartled. "i thought you did not like fresh air," hesaid. "i don't when i am by myself," replied therajah; "but my cousin is going out with

me.""and the nurse, of course?" suggested dr. craven. "no, i will not have the nurse," somagnificently that mary could not help remembering how the young native prince hadlooked with his diamonds and emeralds and pearls stuck all over him and the great rubies on the small dark hand he had wavedto command his servants to approach with salaams and receive his orders."my cousin knows how to take care of me. i am always better when she is with me. she made me better last night.a very strong boy i know will push my

carriage."dr. craven felt rather alarmed. if this tiresome hysterical boy shouldchance to get well he himself would lose all chance of inheriting misselthwaite; buthe was not an unscrupulous man, though he was a weak one, and he did not intend tolet him run into actual danger. "he must be a strong boy and a steady boy,"he said. "and i must know something about him. who is he?what is his name?" "it's dickon," mary spoke up suddenly.she felt somehow that everybody who knew the moor must know dickon.

and she was right, too.she saw that in a moment dr. craven's serious face relaxed into a relieved smile."oh, dickon," he said. "if it is dickon you will be safe enough. he's as strong as a moor pony, is dickon.""and he's trusty," said mary. "he's th' trustiest lad i' yorkshire."she had been talking yorkshire to colin and she forgot herself. "did dickon teach you that?" asked dr.craven, laughing outright. "i'm learning it as if it was french," saidmary rather coldly. "it's like a native dialect in india.

very clever people try to learn them.i like it and so does colin." "well, well," he said."if it amuses you perhaps it won't do you any harm. did you take your bromide last night,colin?" "no," colin answered. "i wouldn't take it at first and after marymade me quiet she talked me to sleep--in a low voice--about the spring creeping into agarden." "that sounds soothing," said dr. craven,more perplexed than ever and glancing sideways at mistress mary sitting on herstool and looking down silently at the

carpet. "you are evidently better, but you mustremember--" "i don't want to remember," interrupted therajah, appearing again. "when i lie by myself and remember i beginto have pains everywhere and i think of things that make me begin to scream becausei hate them so. if there was a doctor anywhere who couldmake you forget you were ill instead of remembering it i would have him broughthere." and he waved a thin hand which ought reallyto have been covered with royal signet rings made of rubies."it is because my cousin makes me forget

that she makes me better." dr. craven had never made such a short stayafter a "tantrum"; usually he was obliged to remain a very long time and do a greatmany things. this afternoon he did not give any medicineor leave any new orders and he was spared any disagreeable scenes. when he went downstairs he looked verythoughtful and when he talked to mrs. medlock in the library she felt that he wasa much puzzled man. "well, sir," she ventured, "could you havebelieved it?" "it is certainly a new state of affairs,"said the doctor.

"and there's no denying it is better thanthe old one." "i believe susan sowerby's right--i dothat," said mrs. medlock. "i stopped in her cottage on my way tothwaite yesterday and had a bit of talk with her. and she says to me, 'well, sarah ann, shemayn't be a good child, an' she mayn't be a pretty one, but she's a child, an' childrenneeds children.' we went to school together, susan sowerbyand me." "she's the best sick nurse i know," saiddr. craven. "when i find her in a cottage i know thechances are that i shall save my patient."

mrs. medlock smiled.she was fond of susan sowerby. "she's got a way with her, has susan," shewent on quite volubly. "i've been thinking all morning of onething she said yesterday. she says, 'once when i was givin' th'children a bit of a preach after they'd been fightin' i ses to 'em all, "when i wasat school my jography told as th' world was shaped like a orange an' i found out before i was ten that th' whole orange doesn'tbelong to nobody. no one owns more than his bit of a quarteran' there's times it seems like there's not enow quarters to go round.

but don't you--none o' you--think as youown th' whole orange or you'll find out you're mistaken, an' you won't find it outwithout hard knocks." 'what children learns from children,' shesays, 'is that there's no sense in grabbin' at th' whole orange--peel an' all.if you do you'll likely not get even th' pips, an' them's too bitter to eat.'" "she's a shrewd woman," said dr. craven,putting on his coat. "well, she's got a way of saying things,"ended mrs. medlock, much pleased. "sometimes i've said to her, 'eh! susan, ifyou was a different woman an' didn't talk such broad yorkshire i've seen the timeswhen i should have said you was clever.'"

that night colin slept without onceawakening and when he opened his eyes in the morning he lay still and smiled withoutknowing it--smiled because he felt so curiously comfortable. it was actually nice to be awake, and heturned over and stretched his limbs luxuriously.he felt as if tight strings which had held him had loosened themselves and let him go. he did not know that dr. craven would havesaid that his nerves had relaxed and rested themselves. instead of lying and staring at the walland wishing he had not awakened, his mind

was full of the plans he and mary had madeyesterday, of pictures of the garden and of dickon and his wild creatures. it was so nice to have things to thinkabout. and he had not been awake more than tenminutes when he heard feet running along the corridor and mary was at the door. the next minute she was in the room and hadrun across to his bed, bringing with her a waft of fresh air full of the scent of themorning. "you've been out! you've been out!there's that nice smell of leaves!" he

cried. she had been running and her hair was looseand blown and she was bright with the air and pink-cheeked, though he could not seeit. "it's so beautiful!" she said, a littlebreathless with her speed. "you never saw anything so beautiful!it has come! i thought it had come that other morning,but it was only coming. it is here now!it has come, the spring! dickon says so!" "has it?" cried colin, and though he reallyknew nothing about it he felt his heart

beat.he actually sat up in bed. "open the window!" he added, laughing halfwith joyful excitement and half at his own fancy."perhaps we may hear golden trumpets!" and though he laughed, mary was at thewindow in a moment and in a moment more it was opened wide and freshness and softnessand scents and birds' songs were pouring through. "that's fresh air," she said."lie on your back and draw in long breaths of it.that's what dickon does when he's lying on the moor.

he says he feels it in his veins and itmakes him strong and he feels as if he could live forever and ever.breathe it and breathe it." she was only repeating what dickon had toldher, but she caught colin's fancy. "'forever and ever'! does it make him feel like that?" he said,and he did as she told him, drawing in long deep breaths over and over again until hefelt that something quite new and delightful was happening to him. mary was at his bedside again."things are crowding up out of the earth," she ran on in a hurry.

"and there are flowers uncurling and budson everything and the green veil has covered nearly all the gray and the birdsare in such a hurry about their nests for fear they may be too late that some of them are even fighting for places in the secretgarden. and the rose-bushes look as wick as wickcan be, and there are primroses in the lanes and woods, and the seeds we plantedare up, and dickon has brought the fox and the crow and the squirrels and a new-bornlamb." and then she paused for breath. the new-born lamb dickon had found threedays before lying by its dead mother among

the gorse bushes on the moor.it was not the first motherless lamb he had found and he knew what to do with it. he had taken it to the cottage wrapped inhis jacket and he had let it lie near the fire and had fed it with warm milk. it was a soft thing with a darling sillybaby face and legs rather long for its body. dickon had carried it over the moor in hisarms and its feeding bottle was in his pocket with a squirrel, and when mary hadsat under a tree with its limp warmness huddled on her lap she had felt as if shewere too full of strange joy to speak.

a lamb--a lamb!a living lamb who lay on your lap like a baby! she was describing it with great joy andcolin was listening and drawing in long breaths of air when the nurse entered.she started a little at the sight of the open window. she had sat stifling in the room many awarm day because her patient was sure that open windows gave people cold."are you sure you are not chilly, master colin?" she inquired. "no," was the answer."i am breathing long breaths of fresh air.

it makes you strong.i am going to get up to the sofa for breakfast. my cousin will have breakfast with me."the nurse went away, concealing a smile, to give the order for two breakfasts. she found the servants' hall a more amusingplace than the invalid's chamber and just now everybody wanted to hear the news fromupstairs. there was a great deal of joking about theunpopular young recluse who, as the cook said, "had found his master, and good forhim." the servants' hall had been very tired ofthe tantrums, and the butler, who was a man

with a family, had more than once expressedhis opinion that the invalid would be all the better "for a good hiding." when colin was on his sofa and thebreakfast for two was put upon the table he made an announcement to the nurse in hismost rajah-like manner. "a boy, and a fox, and a crow, and twosquirrels, and a new-born lamb, are coming to see me this morning.i want them brought upstairs as soon as they come," he said. "you are not to begin playing with theanimals in the servants' hall and keep them there.i want them here."

the nurse gave a slight gasp and tried toconceal it with a cough. "yes, sir," she answered."i'll tell you what you can do," added colin, waving his hand. "you can tell martha to bring them here.the boy is martha's brother. his name is dickon and he is an animalcharmer." "i hope the animals won't bite, mastercolin," said the nurse. "i told you he was a charmer," said colinausterely. "charmers' animals never bite." "there are snake-charmers in india," saidmary.

"and they can put their snakes' heads intheir mouths." "goodness!" shuddered the nurse. they ate their breakfast with the morningair pouring in upon them. colin's breakfast was a very good one andmary watched him with serious interest. "you will begin to get fatter just as idid," she said. "i never wanted my breakfast when i was inindia and now i always want it." "i wanted mine this morning," said colin. "perhaps it was the fresh air.when do you think dickon will come?" he was not long in coming.in about ten minutes mary held up her hand.

"listen!" she said. "did you hear a caw?"colin listened and heard it, the oddest sound in the world to hear inside a house,a hoarse "caw-caw." "yes," he answered. "that's soot," said mary."listen again. do you hear a bleat--a tiny one?""oh, yes!" cried colin, quite flushing. "that's the new-born lamb," said mary. "he's coming."dickon's moorland boots were thick and clumsy and though he tried to walk quietlythey made a clumping sound as he walked

through the long corridors. mary and colin heard him marching--marching, until he passed through the tapestry door on to the soft carpet ofcolin's own passage. "if you please, sir," announced martha,opening the door, "if you please, sir, here's dickon an' his creatures."dickon came in smiling his nicest wide smile. the new-born lamb was in his arms and thelittle red fox trotted by his side. nut sat on his left shoulder and soot onhis right and shell's head and paws peeped out of his coat pocket.

colin slowly sat up and stared and stared--as he had stared when he first saw mary; but this was a stare of wonder and delight. the truth was that in spite of all he hadheard he had not in the least understood what this boy would be like and that hisfox and his crow and his squirrels and his lamb were so near to him and his friendliness that they seemed almost to bepart of himself. colin had never talked to a boy in his lifeand he was so overwhelmed by his own pleasure and curiosity that he did not eventhink of speaking. but dickon did not feel the least shy orawkward.

he had not felt embarrassed because thecrow had not known his language and had only stared and had not spoken to him thefirst time they met. creatures were always like that until theyfound out about you. he walked over to colin's sofa and put thenew-born lamb quietly on his lap, and immediately the little creature turned tothe warm velvet dressing-gown and began to nuzzle and nuzzle into its folds and butt its tight-curled head with soft impatienceagainst his side. of course no boy could have helped speakingthen. "what is it doing?" cried colin.

"what does it want?""it wants its mother," said dickon, smiling more and more."i brought it to thee a bit hungry because i knowed tha'd like to see it feed." he knelt down by the sofa and took afeeding-bottle from his pocket. "come on, little 'un," he said, turning thesmall woolly white head with a gentle brown hand. "this is what tha's after.tha'll get more out o' this than tha' will out o' silk velvet coats. there now," and he pushed the rubber tip ofthe bottle into the nuzzling mouth and the

lamb began to suck it with ravenousecstasy. after that there was no wondering what tosay. by the time the lamb fell asleep questionspoured forth and dickon answered them all. he told them how he had found the lamb justas the sun was rising three mornings ago. he had been standing on the moor listeningto a skylark and watching him swing higher and higher into the sky until he was only aspeck in the heights of blue. "i'd almost lost him but for his song an' iwas wonderin' how a chap could hear it when it seemed as if he'd get out o' th' worldin a minute--an' just then i heard somethin' else far off among th' gorsebushes.

it was a weak bleatin' an' i knowed it wasa new lamb as was hungry an' i knowed it wouldn't be hungry if it hadn't lost itsmother somehow, so i set off searchin'. eh! i did have a look for it. i went in an' out among th' gorse bushesan' round an' round an' i always seemed to take th' wrong turnin'. but at last i seed a bit o' white by a rockon top o' th' moor an' i climbed up an' found th' little 'un half dead wi' cold an'clemmin'." while he talked, soot flew solemnly in andout of the open window and cawed remarks about the scenery while nut and shell madeexcursions into the big trees outside and

ran up and down trunks and exploredbranches. captain curled up near dickon, who sat onthe hearth-rug from preference. they looked at the pictures in thegardening books and dickon knew all the flowers by their country names and knewexactly which ones were already growing in "i couldna' say that there name," he said,pointing to one under which was written "aquilegia," "but us calls that acolumbine, an' that there one it's a snapdragon and they both grow wild in hedges, but these is garden ones an'they're bigger an' grander. there's some big clumps o' columbine in th'garden.

they'll look like a bed o' blue an' whitebutterflies flutterin' when they're out." "i'm going to see them," cried colin."i am going to see them!" "aye, that tha' mun," said mary quiteseriously. "an' tha' munnot lose no time about it."

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