home, so perhaps she thinks I can help him.'
When he arrived home, he found the housekeeper very
confused about Colin's health.
'He's very strange, sir,' said Mrs Medlock. 'He looks
better, it's true, but some days he eats nothing at all, and other days he eats just like a healthy boy. He used to scream even at the idea of fresh air, but now he spends all his time
outside in his wheelchair, with Miss Mary and Dickon Sowerby. He's in the garden at the moment.'
'In the garden!' repeated Mr Craven. Those were the words of the dream! He hurried out of the house and towards the place which he had not visited for so long. He
found the door with the climbing plant over it, and stood outside, listening, for a moment.
'Surely I can hear voices inside the garden?' he thought. 'Aren't there children whispering, laughing, running in there? Or am I going mad?'
And then the moment came, when the children could not stay quiet. There was wild laughing and shouting, and the door was thrown open. A boy ran out, a tall, healthy,
handsome boy, straight into the man's arms. Mr Craven stared into the boy's laughing eyes.
'Who -What? Who?' he cried.
Colin had not planned to meet his father like this. But
perhaps this was the best way, to come running out with his cousin and his friend.
'Father,' he said, 'I'm Colin. You can't believe it! I can't believe it myself. It was the garden, and Mary and Dickon
and the magic, that made me well. We've kept it a secret up to now. Aren't you happy, Father? I'm going to live for ever and ever and ever!'
Mr Craven put his hands on the boy's shoulders. For a moment he could not speak. 'Take me into the garden, my boy,' he said at last, 'and tell me all about it.'
And in the secret garden, where the roses were at their best, and the butterflies were flying from flower to flower in the summer sunshine, they told Colin's father their story. Sometimes he laughed and sometimes he cried, but most of the time he just looked, unbelieving, into the handsome face of the son that he had almost forgotten.
'Now,' said Colin at the end, 'it isn't a secret any more. I'll never use the wheelchair again. I'm going to walk back
with you, Father - to the house.'
And so, that afternoon, Mrs Medlock, Martha, and the
other servants had the greatest shock of their lives. Through the gardens towards the house came Mr Craven, looking happier than they had ever seen him. And by his side, with his shoulders straight, his head held high and a smile on his
lips, walked young Colin!
home, so perhaps she thinks I can help him.'
When he arrived home, he found the housekeeper very
confused about Colin's health.
'He's very strange, sir,' said Mrs Medlock. 'He looks
better, it's true, but some days he eats nothing at all, and other days he eats just like a healthy boy. He used to scream even at the idea of fresh air, but now he spends all his time
outside in his wheelchair, with Miss Mary and Dickon Sowerby. He's in the garden at the moment.'
'In the garden!' repeated Mr Craven. Those were the words of the dream! He hurried out of the house and towards the place which he had not visited for so long. He
found the door with the climbing plant over it, and stood outside, listening, for a moment.
'Surely I can hear voices inside the garden?' he thought. 'Aren't there children whispering, laughing, running in there? Or am I going mad?'
And then the moment came, when the children could not stay quiet. There was wild laughing and shouting, and the door was thrown open. A boy ran out, a tall, healthy,
handsome boy, straight into the man's arms. Mr Craven stared into the boy's laughing eyes.
'Who -What? Who?' he cried.
Colin had not planned to meet his father like this. But
perhaps this was the best way, to come running out with his cousin and his friend.
'Father,' he said, 'I'm Colin. You can't believe it! I can't believe it myself. It was the garden, and Mary and Dickon
and the magic, that made me well. We've kept it a secret up to now. Aren't you happy, Father? I'm going to live for ever and ever and ever!'
Mr Craven put his hands on the boy's shoulders. For a moment he could not speak. 'Take me into the garden, my boy,' he said at last, 'and tell me all about it.'
And in the secret garden, where the roses were at their best, and the butterflies were flying from flower to flower in the summer sunshine, they told Colin's father their story. Sometimes he laughed and sometimes he cried, but most of the time he just looked, unbelieving, into the handsome face of the son that he had almost forgotten.
'Now,' said Colin at the end, 'it isn't a secret any more. I'll never use the wheelchair again. I'm going to walk back
with you, Father - to the house.'
And so, that afternoon, Mrs Medlock, Martha, and the
other servants had the greatest shock of their lives. Through the gardens towards the house came Mr Craven, looking happier than they had ever seen him. And by his side, with his shoulders straight, his head held high and a smile on his
lips, walked young Colin!
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