Now, now, don't cry like that,' Martha said gently. 'I'm very sorry. You're right, I don't know anything about
anything. Please stop crying, miss.'
She sounded kind and friendly, and Mary began to feel better and soon stopped crying. Martha went on talking as she finished her cleaning, but Mary looked out of the
window in a bored way, and pretended not to listen.
'I've got eleven brothers and sisters, you know, miss. There's not much money in our house. And they all eat so much food! Mother says it's the good fresh air on the moor that makes them so hungry. My brother Dickon, he's always out on the moor. He's twelve, and he's got a horse
which he rides sometimes.'
'Where did he get it?' asked Mary. She had always wanted an animal of her own, and so she began to feel a little interest in Dickon.
'Oh, it's a wild horse, but he's a kind boy, and animals like him, you see. Now you must have your breakfast, miss.
Here it is on the table.'
'I don't want it,' said Mary. 'I'm not hungry.'
'What!' cried Martha. 'My little brothers and sisters would
eat all this in five minutes!' 'Why?' asked Mary coldly.
'Because they don't get enough to eat, that's why, and they're always hungry. You're very lucky to have the food, miss.' Mary said nothing, but she drank some tea and ate a
little bread.
'Now put a coat on and run outside to play,' said
Mary in Yorkshire
7 don't want it,' said Mary. 'I'm not hungry.'
Martha. 'It'll do you good to be in the fresh air.'
Mary looked out of the window at the cold grey sky.
'Why should I go out on a day like this?' she asked.
'Well, there's nothing to play with indoors, is there?' Mary realized Martha was right. 'But who will go with
me?' she said.
Martha stared at her. 'Nobody. You'll have to learn to
play by yourself. Dickon plays by himself on the moors for hours, with the wild birds, and the sheep, and the other animals.' She looked away for a moment. 'Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, but - but one of the walled gardens is locked up. Nobody's been in it for ten years. It was Mrs Craven's garden, and when she died so suddenly, Mr
Craven locked it and buried the key - Oh, I must go, I can hear Mrs Medlock's bell ringing for me.'