Ben stopped smiling and picked up his spade. 'You can't, and that's that. It's not your business. Nobody can find the door. Run away and play, will you? I must get on with my
work.' And he walked away. He did not even say goodbye.
Ben stopped smiling and picked up his spade.
In the next few days Mary spent almost all her time in the gardens. The fresh air from the moor made her hungry,-and she was becoming stronger and healthier. One day she noticed the robin again. He was on top of a wall, singing to
her. 'Good morning! Isn't this fun! Come this way!' he seemed to say, as he hopped along the wall Mary began to laugh as she danced along beside him. 'I know the secret
garden's on the other side of this wall!' she thought 16
Mary in Yorkshire
excitedly. 'And the robin lives there! But where's the door?' That evening she asked Martha to stay and talk to her beside the fire after supper. They could hear the wind blowing round the old house, but the room was warm and
comfortable. Mary only had one idea in her head. 'Tell me about the secret garden,' she said.
'Well, all right then, miss, but we aren't supposed to talk about it, you know. It was Mrs Craven's favourite garden, and she and Mr Craven used to take care of it themselves. They spent hours there, reading and talking. Very happy, they were. They used the branch of an old tree as a seat. But one day when she was sitting on the branch, it broke, and she fell. She was very badly hurt and the next day she died. That's why he hates the garden so much, and won't let
anyone go in there.'
'How sad!' said Mary. 'Poor Mr Craven!' It was the first
time that she had ever felt sorry for anyone.
Just then, as she was listening to the wind outside, she
heard another noise, in the house.
'Can you hear a child crying?' she asked Martha.
Martha looked confused. 'Er - no,' she replied. 'No, I
think . . . it must be the wind.'
But at that moment the wind blew open their door and
they heard the crying very clearly.
'I told you!' cried Mary.
At once Martha shut the door. 'It was the wind,' she
repeated. But she did not speak in her usual natural way, and Mary did not believe her.
Ben stopped smiling and picked up his spade. 'You can't, and that's that. It's not your business. Nobody can find the door. Run away and play, will you? I must get on with my
work.' And he walked away. He did not even say goodbye.
Ben stopped smiling and picked up his spade.
In the next few days Mary spent almost all her time in the gardens. The fresh air from the moor made her hungry,-and she was becoming stronger and healthier. One day she noticed the robin again. He was on top of a wall, singing to
her. 'Good morning! Isn't this fun! Come this way!' he seemed to say, as he hopped along the wall Mary began to laugh as she danced along beside him. 'I know the secret
garden's on the other side of this wall!' she thought 16
Mary in Yorkshire
excitedly. 'And the robin lives there! But where's the door?' That evening she asked Martha to stay and talk to her beside the fire after supper. They could hear the wind blowing round the old house, but the room was warm and
comfortable. Mary only had one idea in her head. 'Tell me about the secret garden,' she said.
'Well, all right then, miss, but we aren't supposed to talk about it, you know. It was Mrs Craven's favourite garden, and she and Mr Craven used to take care of it themselves. They spent hours there, reading and talking. Very happy, they were. They used the branch of an old tree as a seat. But one day when she was sitting on the branch, it broke, and she fell. She was very badly hurt and the next day she died. That's why he hates the garden so much, and won't let
anyone go in there.'
'How sad!' said Mary. 'Poor Mr Craven!' It was the first
time that she had ever felt sorry for anyone.
Just then, as she was listening to the wind outside, she
heard another noise, in the house.
'Can you hear a child crying?' she asked Martha.
Martha looked confused. 'Er - no,' she replied. 'No, I
think . . . it must be the wind.'
But at that moment the wind blew open their door and
they heard the crying very clearly.
'I told you!' cried Mary.
At once Martha shut the door. 'It was the wind,' she
repeated. But she did not speak in her usual natural way, and Mary did not believe her.
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