They're listening to the music!' thought Mary. 'I mustn't frighten them!' She stood very still.
The boy stopped playing. 'That's right,' he said. 'Animals don't like it if you move suddenly. I'm Dickon and you must be
Miss Mary. I've brought you the spade and the seeds.'
He spoke in an easy, friendly way. Mary liked him at once. As they were looking at the seed packets together, the
robin hopped on to a branch near them. Dickon listened carefully to the robin's song.
'He's saying he's your friend,' he told Mary.
'Really? Oh, I am pleased he likes me. Can you understand
everything that birds say?'
'I think I do, and they think I do. I've lived on the moor
with them for so long. Sometimes I think I am a bird or an
animal, not a boy at all!' His smile was the widest she had ever seen.
He explained how to plant the seeds. Suddenly he said, 'I can help you plant them! Where's your garden?'
Mary went red, then white. She had never thought of this. What was she going to say?
'Could you keep a secret? It's a great secret. If anyone discovers it, I'll.. .I'll die!'
'I keep secrets for all the wild birds and animals on the moor. So I can keep yours too,' he replied.
'I've stolen a garden,' she said very fast. 'Nobody goes into it, nobody wants it. I love it and nobody takes care of it! They're letting it die!' And she threw her arms over her
Meeting Dickon
'Don't cry,' said Dickon gently. 'Where is it?' 'Come with me and I'll show you,' said Miss Mary.
They went to the secret garden and entered it together. Dickon walked round, looking at everything.
'Martha told me about this place, but I never thought I'd see it,' he said. 'It's wonderful!'
'What about the roses?' asked Mary worriedly. 'Are they still alive? What do you think?'
'Look at these shoots on the branches. Most of them are alive ail right.' He took out his knife and cut away some of the dead wood from the rose trees. Mary showed him the
work she had done in the garden, and they talked as they cut and cleared.
'Dickon,' said Mary suddenly, 'I like you. I never thought I'd like as many as five people!'
'Only five!' laughed Dickon.
He did look funny when he laughed, thought Mary.
'Yes, your mother, Martha, the robin, Ben, and you.' Then she asked him a question in Yorkshire dialect,
because that was his language.
'Does tha' like me?' was her question.
'Of course! I likes thee wonderful!' replied Dickon, a big
smile on his round face. Mary had never been so happy.
When she went back to the house for her lunch, she told Martha about Dickon's visit.
'I've got news for you too,' said Martha. 'Mr Craven's come home, and wants to see you! He's going away again
tomorrow, for several months.'