I've always been ill. I've nearly died several times, and my back's never been strong. My doctor feels sure that i'm going to die. But he's my father's cousin, and very poor,so he'd like me to die. Then he'd get all the money when my father dies. He gives me medicine and tells me to rest. We had a grand doctor from London once, who told me to go out in the fresh air and try to get well. But i hate fresh air. And another thing, all the servants have to do what i want, because if I'm angry, I become ill. Mary thought she likes this boy, although he seemed so strange. He asked her lots of questions, and she told him all about her life in India. How old are you? he asked suddenly. I'm ten, and so are you, replied Mary, forgetting to be careful, because when you were born the garden door was locked and the key was buried. And i know that was ten years ago.