The Secret Garden

sion or consult her elders about things. All she thought about the key was that if it was the key to the closed garden, and she could find out where the door was, she co

ed it she could go into it every day and shut the door behind her, and she could make up some play of her own and play it quite alone, because nobody

re is no doubt that the fresh, strong, pure air from the moor had a great deal to do with it. Just as it had given her an appetite, and fighting with the wind had stirred her blood, so the same things had stirred her mind.

she could see nothing but thickly growing, glossy, dark green leaves. She was very much disappointed. Something of her contrariness came back to her as she paced the walk and looked over it at the tree-tops inside. It seemed so silly, she said to herself,

he cottage, but she was back at her work in the morning

birds gettin' up an' th' rabbits scamperin' about an' th' sun risin'. I didn

ad to see her and they had got the baking and washing all out of the way. She

ottage all smelt o' nice, clean hot bakin' an' there was a good fire, an' they

and mended stockings and Martha had told them about the little girl who had come from India and who had been

"They wanted to know all about th' blacks an' abou

lected a

t you will have more to talk about. I dare say they would like to hear about

f their heads. Would tha' really do that, Miss? It would be s

, as she thought the matter over. "I never thought of that.

t your seemin' to be all by yourself like. She said, 'Hasn't Mr. Craven got no governess for her, nor no nurse?' and I said, 'No

governess," sa

ter you, an' she says: 'Now, Martha, you just think how you'd feel yourself, in a big place like that, wa

er a long,

," she said. "I lik

room and came back with something

said, with a cheerful grin.

How could a cottage full of fourteen

called out, 'Mother, he's got skippin'-ropes with red an' blue handles.' An' mother she calls out quite sudden, 'Here, stop, mister! How much are they?' An' he says 'Tuppence', an' mother she began fumblin' in her pocket an' sh

rong, slender rope with a striped red and blue handle at each end, but Mary Lennox

for?" she as

'-ropes in India, for all they've got elephants and tigers and camels

aces in the old portraits seemed to stare at her, too, and wonder what on earth this common little cottager had the impudence to be doing under their very noses. But Martha

"I've skipped as much as five hundred when I was twelve, b

chair beginning to

mother is a kind woman. Do you th

mount up. That's what mother said. She says, 'Nothin' will do her more good than skippin' rope. It's th' sensiblest toy a chi

Mary's arms and legs when she first began to skip. She was not very

a. "Mother said I must tell you to keep out o' doors as much a

over her arm. She opened the door to go out, and then su

d it stiffly because she was not used to thanking people or noticing that they did things fo

ke, as if she was not accustomed to this

ng," she said. "If tha'd been our 'Liz

d stiffer

ant me to

laughed

erent, p'raps tha'd want to thysel'. But tha'

quite red, and she was more interested than she had ever been since she was born. The sun was shining and a little wind was blowing-not a rough wind, but one which came in delightful little gusts and brought a fresh scent of newly turned earth with it. She skipped round the fountain garden, and up one walk and down

ha's got child's blood in thy veins instead of sour buttermilk. Tha's skipped red into th

ry said. "I'm just beginning

g his head toward the robin. "He followed after thee yesterday. He'll be at it again today. He'll be bound to find out what th' skippin'-rop

t before she had gone half-way down the path she was so hot and breathless that she was obliged to stop. She did not mind much, because she had already counted up to thirty. She stopped with a little laugh of pleasure, and there, lo and behold, w

y," she said. "You ought to show me the d

his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is qu

in her Ayah's stories, and she always said that

sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still s

pt over wood and iron. Mary's heart began to thump and her hands to shake a little in her delight and excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering away and til

r hand in her pocket, drew out the key and found it fitted the keyhole. Sh

ne was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not h

stood with her back against it, looking about her and bre

ng inside the