English
Itwasnotachild’sroom,butagrown-upperson’sroom,withgloomyoldpicturesonthewallsandheavyoldoakchairs.
Atableinthecenterwassetwithagoodsubstantialbreakfast.
Butshehadalwayshadaverysmallappetite,andshelookedwithsomethingmorethanindifferenceatthefirstplateMarthasetbeforeher.
“Idon’twantit,”shesaid.
“Tha’doesn’twantthyporridge!”Marthaexclaimedincredulously.
“No.”
“Tha’doesn’tknowhowgooditis.Putabito’treacleonitorabito’sugar.”
“Idon’twantit,”repeatedMary.
“Eh!”saidMartha.“Ican’tabidetoseegoodvictualsgotowaste.Ifourchildrenwasatthistablethey’dcleanitbareinfiveminutes.”
“Why?”saidMarycoldly.
“Why!”echoedMartha.“Becausetheyscarceeverhadtheirstomachsfullintheirlives.They’reashungryasyounghawksan’foxes.”
“Idon’tknowwhatitistobehungry,”saidMary,withtheindifferenceofignorance.
Marthalookedindignant.
“Well,itwoulddotheegoodtotryit.Icanseethatplainenough,”shesaidoutspokenly.
“I’venopatiencewithfolkassitsan’juststaresatgoodbreadan’meat.Myword!
don’tIwishDickonandPhilan’Janean’th’restof‘emhadwhat’shereundertheirpinafores.”
“Whydon’tyoutakeittothem?”suggestedMary.
“It’snotmine,”answeredMarthastoutly.“An’thisisn’tmydayout.Igetmydayoutonceamonthsameasth’rest.ThenIgohomean’cleanupformotheran’giveheraday’srest.”
Marydranksometeaandatealittletoastandsomemarmalade.
“Youwrapupwarman’runoutan’playyou,”saidMartha.“It’lldoyougoodandgiveyousomestomachforyourmeat.”
Marywenttothewindow.Thereweregardensandpathsandbigtrees,buteverythinglookeddullandwintry.
“Out?WhyshouldIgooutonadaylikethis?”
“Well,iftha’doesn’tgoouttha’lthavetostayin,an’whathastha’gottodo?”
Maryglancedabouther.Therewasnothingtodo.WhenMrs.Medlockhadpreparedthenurseryshehadnotthoughtofamusement.Perhapsitwouldbebettertogoandseewhatthegardenswerelike.
“Whowillgowithme?”sheinquired.
Marthastared.
“You’llgobyyourself,”sheanswered.“You’llhavetolearntoplaylikeotherchildrendoeswhentheyhaven’tgotsistersandbrothers.
OurDickongoesoffonth’moorbyhimselfan’playsforhours.
That’showhemadefriendswithth’pony.
He’sgotsheeponth’moorthatknowshim,an’birdsascomesan’eatsoutofhishand.
Howeverlittlethereistoeat,healwayssavesabito’hisbreadtocoaxhispets.”
ItwasreallythismentionofDickonwhichmadeMarydecidetogoout,thoughshewasnotawareofit.
Therewouldbebirdsoutsidethoughtherewouldnotbeponiesorsheep.
TheywouldbedifferentfromthebirdsinIndiaanditmightamusehertolookatthem.
Marthafoundhercoatandhatforherandapairofstoutlittlebootsandsheshowedherherwaydownstairs.
“Iftha’goesroundthatwaytha’llcometoth’gardens,”shesaid,pointingtoagateinawallofshrubbery.
“There’slotso’flowersinsummer-time,butthere’snothin’bloomin’now.”
Sheseemedtohesitateasecondbeforesheadded,“Oneofth’gardensislockedup.Noonehasbeeninitfortenyears.”
“Why?”askedMaryinspiteofherself.Herewasanotherlockeddooraddedtothehundredinthestrangehouse.
“Mr.Cravenhaditshutwhenhiswifediedsosudden.Hewon’tletnoonegoinside.Itwashergarden.
Helockedth’dooran’dugaholeandburiedth’key.
There’sMrs.Medlock’sbellringing—Imustrun.”
AftershewasgoneMaryturneddownthewalkwhichledtothedoorintheshrubbery.
Shecouldnothelpthinkingaboutthegardenwhichnoonehadbeenintofortenyears.
Shewonderedwhatitwouldlooklikeandwhethertherewereanyflowersstillaliveinit.
Whenshehadpassedthroughtheshrubberygateshefoundherselfingreatgardens,withwidelawnsandwindingwalkswithclippedborders.
Thereweretrees,andflower-beds,andevergreensclippedintostrangeshapes,andalargepoolwithanoldgrayfountaininitsmidst.
Buttheflower-bedswerebareandwintryandthefountainwasnotplaying.
Thiswasnotthegardenwhichwasshutup.Howcouldagardenbeshutup?Youcouldalwayswalkintoagarden.
Shewasjustthinkingthiswhenshesawthat,attheendofthepathshewasfollowing,thereseemedtobealongwall,withivygrowingoverit.
ShewasnotfamiliarenoughwithEnglandtoknowthatshewascominguponthekitchen-gardenswherethevegetablesandfruitweregrowing.
Shewenttowardthewallandfoundthattherewasagreendoorintheivy,andthatitstoodopen.
Thiswasnottheclosedgarden,evidently,andshecouldgointoit.
Shewentthroughthedoorandfoundthatitwasagardenwithwallsallrounditandthatitwasonlyoneofseveralwalledgardenswhichseemedtoopenintooneanother.
Shesawanotheropengreendoor,revealingbushesandpathwaysbetweenbedscontainingwintervegetables.
Fruit-treesweretrainedflatagainstthewall,andoversomeofthebedstherewereglassframes.
Theplacewasbareanduglyenough,Marythought,asshestoodandstaredabouther.
Itmightbenicerinsummerwhenthingsweregreen,buttherewasnothingprettyaboutitnow.
Presentlyanoldmanwithaspadeoverhisshoulderwalkedthroughthedoorleadingfromthesecondgarden.
HelookedstartledwhenhesawMary,andthentouchedhiscap.
Hehadasurlyoldface,anddidnotseematallpleasedtoseeher—butthenshewasdispleasedwithhisgardenandworeher“quitecontrary”expression,andcertainlydidnotseematallpleasedtoseehim.
“Whatisthisplace?”sheasked.
“Oneo’th’kitchen-gardens,”heanswered.
“Whatisthat?”saidMary,pointingthroughtheothergreendoor.
“Anotherof‘em,”shortly.“There’sanotheront’othersideo’th’wallan’there’sth’orchardt’othersideo’that.”
“CanIgointhem?”askedMary.
“Iftha’likes.Butthere’snowttosee.”
Marymadenoresponse.Shewentdownthepathandthroughthesecondgreendoor.
There,shefoundmorewallsandwintervegetablesandglassframes,butinthesecondwalltherewasanothergreendooranditwasnotopen.
Perhapsitledintothegardenwhichnoonehadseenfortenyears.
Asshewasnotatallatimidchildandalwaysdidwhatshewantedtodo,Marywenttothegreendoorandturnedthehandle.
Shehopedthedoorwouldnotopenbecauseshewantedtobesureshehadfoundthemysteriousgarden—butitdidopenquiteeasilyandshewalkedthroughitandfoundherselfinanorchard.
Therewerewallsallrounditalsoandtreestrainedagainstthem,andtherewerebarefruit-treesgrowinginthewinter-brownedgrass—buttherewasnogreendoortobeseenanywhere.
Marylookedforit,andyetwhenshehadenteredtheupperendofthegardenshehadnoticedthatthewalldidnotseemtoendwiththeorchardbuttoextendbeyonditasifitenclosedaplaceattheotherside.
Shecouldseethetopsoftreesabovethewall,andwhenshestoodstillshesawabirdwithabrightredbreastsittingonthetopmostbranchofoneofthem,andsuddenlyheburstintohiswintersong—almostasifhehadcaughtsightofherandwascallingtoher.
Shestoppedandlistenedtohimandsomehowhischeerful,friendlylittlewhistlegaveherapleasedfeeling—evenadisagreeablelittlegirlmaybelonely,andthebigclosedhouseandbigbaremoorandbigbaregardenshadmadethisonefeelasiftherewasnooneleftintheworldbutherself.
Ifshehadbeenanaffectionatechild,whohadbeenusedtobeingloved,shewouldhavebrokenherheart,buteventhoughshewas“MistressMaryQuiteContrary”shewasdesolate,andthebright-breastedlittlebirdbroughtalookintohersourlittlefacewhichwasalmostasmile.Shelistenedtohimuntilheflewaway.
HewasnotlikeanIndianbirdandshelikedhimandwonderedifsheshouldeverseehimagain.
Perhapshelivedinthemysteriousgardenandknewallaboutit.
Perhapsitwasbecauseshehadnothingwhatevertodothatshethoughtsomuchofthedesertedgarden.
Shewascuriousaboutitandwantedtoseewhatitwaslike.
WhyhadMr.ArchibaldCravenburiedthekey?
Ifhehadlikedhiswifesomuchwhydidhehatehergarden?
Shewonderedifsheshouldeverseehim,butsheknewthatifshedidsheshouldnotlikehim,andhewouldnotlikeher,andthatsheshouldonlystandandstareathimandsaynothing,thoughsheshouldbewantingdreadfullytoaskhimwhyhehaddonesuchaqueerthing.
“PeopleneverlikemeandIneverlikepeople,”shethought.“AndInevercantalkastheCrawfordchildrencould.Theywerealwaystalkingandlaughingandmakingnoises.”
Shethoughtoftherobinandofthewayheseemedtosinghissongather,andassherememberedthetree-topheperchedonshestoppedrathersuddenlyonthepath.
“Ibelievethattreewasinthesecretgarden—Ifeelsureitwas,”shesaid.“Therewasawallroundtheplaceandtherewasnodoor.”
Shewalkedbackintothefirstkitchen-gardenshehadenteredandfoundtheoldmandiggingthere.
Shewentandstoodbesidehimandwatchedhimafewmomentsinhercoldlittleway.
Hetooknonoticeofherandsoatlastshespoketohim.
“Ihavebeenintotheothergardens,”shesaid.
“Therewasnothin’topreventthee,”heansweredcrustily.
“Iwentintotheorchard.”
“Therewasnodogatth’doortobitethee,”heanswered.
“Therewasnodoorthereintotheothergarden,”saidMary.
“Whatgarden?”hesaidinaroughvoice,stoppinghisdiggingforamoment.
“Theoneontheothersideofthewall,”answeredMistressMary.“Therearetreesthere—Isawthetopsofthem.Abirdwitharedbreastwassittingononeofthemandhesang.”
Tohersurprisethesurlyoldweather-beatenfaceactuallychangeditsexpression.
Aslowsmilespreadoveritandthegardenerlookedquitedifferent.
Itmadeherthinkthatitwascurioushowmuchnicerapersonlookedwhenhesmiled.Shehadnotthoughtofitbefore.
Heturnedabouttotheorchardsideofhisgardenandbegantowhistle—alowsoftwhistle.
Shecouldnotunderstandhowsuchasurlymancouldmakesuchacoaxingsound.
Almostthenextmomentawonderfulthinghappened.
Sheheardasoftlittlerushingflightthroughtheair—anditwasthebirdwiththeredbreastflyingtothem,andheactuallyalightedonthebigclodofearthquiteneartothegardener’sfoot.
“Hereheis,”chuckledtheoldman,andthenhespoketothebirdasifhewerespeakingtoachild.
“Wherehastha’been,tha’cheekylittlebeggar?”hesaid.“I’venotseentheebeforetoday.Hastha,beguntha’courtin’thisearlyinth’season?Tha’rttooforrad.”
Thebirdputhistinyheadononesideandlookedupathimwithhissoftbrighteyewhichwaslikeablackdewdrop.
Heseemedquitefamiliarandnottheleastafraid.
Hehoppedaboutandpeckedtheearthbriskly,lookingforseedsandinsects.
ItactuallygaveMaryaqueerfeelinginherheart,becausehewassoprettyandcheerfulandseemedsolikeaperson.
Hehadatinyplumpbodyandadelicatebeak,andslenderdelicatelegs.
“Willhealwayscomewhenyoucallhim?”sheaskedalmostinawhisper.
“Aye,thathewill.I’veknowedhimeversincehewasafledgling.
Hecomeoutofth’nestinth’othergardenan’whenfirstheflewoverth’wallhewastooweaktoflybackforafewdaysan’wegotfriendly.
Whenhewentoverth’wallagainth’restofth’broodwasgonean’hewaslonelyan’hecomebacktome.”
“Whatkindofabirdishe?”Maryasked.
“Doesn’ttha’know?He’sarobinredbreastan’they’reth’friendliest,curiousestbirdsalive.
They’realmostasfriendlyasdogs—ifyouknowhowtogetonwith‘em.
Watchhimpeckin’abouttherean’lookin’roundatusnowan’again.Heknowswe’retalkin’abouthim.”
Itwasthequeerestthingintheworldtoseetheoldfellow.Helookedattheplumplittlescarlet-waistcoatedbirdasifhewerebothproudandfondofhim.
“He’saconceitedone,”hechuckled.“Helikestohearfolktalkabouthim.
An’curious—blessme,thereneverwashislikeforcuriosityan’meddlin’.
He’salwayscomin’toseewhatI’mplantin’.
Heknowsallth’thingsMesterCravennevertroubleshissel’tofindout.He’sth’headgardener,heis.”
Therobinhoppedaboutbusilypeckingthesoilandnowandthenstoppedandlookedatthemalittle.
Marythoughthisblackdewdropeyesgazedatherwithgreatcuriosity.
Itreallyseemedasifhewerefindingoutallabouther.
Thequeerfeelinginherheartincreased.
“Wheredidtherestofthebroodflyto?”sheasked.
“There’snoknowin’.Theoldonesturn‘emouto’theirnestan’make‘emflyan’they’rescatteredbeforeyouknowit.Thisonewasaknowin’onean,heknewhewaslonely.”
MistressMarywentastepnearertotherobinandlookedathimveryhard.
“I’mlonely,”shesaid.
Shehadnotknownbeforethatthiswasoneofthethingswhichmadeherfeelsourandcross.Sheseemedtofinditoutwhentherobinlookedatherandshelookedattherobin.
Theoldgardenerpushedhiscapbackonhisbaldheadandstaredatheraminute.
“Arttha’th’littlewenchfromIndia?”heasked.
Marynodded.
“Thennowondertha’rtlonely.Tha’ltbelonlierbeforetha’sdone,”hesaid.
Hebegantodigagain,drivinghisspadedeepintotherichblackgardensoilwhiletherobinhoppedaboutverybusilyemployed.
“Whatisyourname?”Maryinquired.
Hestooduptoanswerher.
“BenWeatherstaff,”heanswered,andthenheaddedwithasurlychuckle,“I’mlonelymysel’exceptwhenhe’swithme,”andhejerkedhisthumbtowardtherobin.“He’sth’onlyfriendI’vegot.”
“Ihavenofriendsatall,”saidMary.“Ineverhad.MyAyahdidn’tlikemeandIneverplayedwithanyone.”
ItisaYorkshirehabittosaywhatyouthinkwithbluntfrankness,andoldBenWeatherstaffwasaYorkshiremoorman.
“Tha’an’meareagoodbitalike,”hesaid.“Wewaswoveoutofth’samecloth.
We’reneitherofusgoodlookin’an’we’rebothofusassouraswelook.
We’vegotthesamenastytempers,bothofus,I’llwarrant.”
Thiswasplainspeaking,andMaryLennoxhadneverheardthetruthaboutherselfinherlife.
Nativeservantsalwayssalaamedandsubmittedtoyou,whateveryoudid.
Shehadneverthoughtmuchaboutherlooks,butshewonderedifshewasasunattractiveasBenWeatherstaffandshealsowonderedifshelookedassourashehadlookedbeforetherobincame.
Sheactuallybegantowonderalsoifshewas“nastytempered.”Shefeltuncomfortable.
Suddenlyaclearripplinglittlesoundbrokeoutnearherandsheturnedround.
Shewasstandingafewfeetfromayoungapple-treeandtherobinhadflownontooneofitsbranchesandhadburstoutintoascrapofasong.BenWeatherstafflaughedoutright.
“Whatdidhedothatfor?”askedMary.
“He’smadeuphismindtomakefriendswiththee,”repliedBen.“Dangmeifhehasn’ttookafancytothee.”
“Tome?”saidMary,andshemovedtowardthelittletreesoftlyandlookedup.
“Wouldyoumakefriendswithme?”shesaidtotherobinjustasifshewasspeakingtoaperson.“Wouldyou?”
AndshedidnotsayiteitherinherhardlittlevoiceorinherimperiousIndianvoice,butinatonesosoftandeagerandcoaxingthatBenWeatherstaffwasassurprisedasshehadbeenwhensheheardhimwhistle.
“Why,”hecriedout,“tha’saidthatasnicean’humanasiftha’wasarealchildinsteadofasharpoldwoman.Tha’saiditalmostlikeDickontalkstohiswildthingsonth’moor.”
“DoyouknowDickon?”Maryasked,turningroundratherinahurry.
“Everybodyknowshim.Dickon’swanderin’abouteverywhere.
Th’veryblackberriesan’heather-bellsknowshim.
Iwarrantth’foxesshowshimwheretheircubsliesan’th’skylarksdoesn’thidetheirnestsfromhim.”
Marywouldhavelikedtoasksomemorequestions.
ShewasalmostascuriousaboutDickonasshewasaboutthedesertedgarden.
Butjustthatmomenttherobin,whohadendedhissong,gavealittleshakeofhiswings,spreadthemandflewaway.
Hehadmadehisvisitandhadotherthingstodo.
“Hehasflownoverthewall!”Marycriedout,watchinghim.“Hehasflownintotheorchard—hehasflownacrosstheotherwall—intothegardenwherethereisnodoor!”
“Helivesthere,”saidoldBen.“Hecameouto’th’eggthere.Ifhe’scourtin’,he’smakin’uptosomeyoungmadamofarobinthatlivesamongth’oldrose-treesthere.”
“Rose-trees,”saidMary.“Arethererose-trees?”
BenWeatherstafftookuphisspadeagainandbegantodig.
“Therewastenyear’ago,”hemumbled.
“Ishouldliketoseethem,”saidMary.“Whereisthegreendoor?Theremustbeadoorsomewhere.”
Bendrovehisspadedeepandlookedasuncompanionableashehadlookedwhenshefirstsawhim.
“Therewastenyear’ago,butthereisn’tnow,”hesaid.
“Nodoor!”criedMary.“Theremustbe.”
“Noneasanyonecanfind,an’noneasisanyone’sbusiness.
Don’tyoubeameddlesomewenchan’pokeyournosewhereit’snocausetogo.Here,Imustgoonwithmywork.Getyougonean’playyou.I’venomoretime.”
Andheactuallystoppeddigging,threwhisspadeoverhisshoulderandwalkedoff,withoutevenglancingatherorsayinggood-by.
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