We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes Ihave been taken to places at the seaside, but I won'tstay because people stare at me. I used to wear an ironthing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor camefrom London to see me and said it was stupid. He toldthem to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.

圻夕,涛嗔筈   Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.  She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her,and she stood in the corridor and could hear the cryingquite plainly, though it was not loud. It was on the otherside of the wall at her left and a few yards farther onthere was a door. She could see a glimmer of light comingfrom beneath it. The Someone was crying in that room,and it was quite a young Someone.  My father won't let people talk me over either..

  "It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously.  If he could make people answer questions, who knew whatmight happen!  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin..

  "What garden door was locked? Who did it? Where wasthe key buried?" he exclaimed as if he were suddenlyvery much interested.  Yes, there was the tapestry door.  "Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer,"and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India.  "Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer,"and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India.  "They have to please me," he said. "I will make themtake me there and I will let you go, too."Mary's hands clutched each other. Everything wouldbe spoiled--everything! Dickon would never come back.  "How old are you?" he asked..

  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.  I would let them take me there in my chair. That wouldbe getting fresh air. I am going to make them open the door."He had become quite excited and his strange eyes beganto shine like stars and looked more immense than ever.  Do you know Martha?""Yes, I know her very well," said Mary. "She waits on me."He nodded his head toward the outer corridor..

  It was the picture of a girl with a laughing face.  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  "It soon will be if no one cares for it," she went on.. read more

  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said.  "Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down..

  "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night,and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy.  She felt almost sure that if she kept on talking and couldmake him see the garden in his mind as she had seen ithe would like it so much that he could not bear to thinkthat everybody might tramp in to it when they chose..

  "I don't suppose I shall," he answered as indifferentlyas he had spoken before. "Ever since I remember anythingI have heard people say I shan't. At first they thoughtI was too little to understand and now they think Idon't hear. But I do. My doctor is my father's cousin.  "What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret.  "She would do as I told her to do," he answered.

  He never seemed to have been amused, however. He could haveanything he asked for and was never made to do anything he didnot like to do. "Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me,"he said indifferently. "It makes me ill to be angry.  What a lot of things you know. I feel as if you had beeninside that garden."She did not know what to say, so she did not say anything.  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani..

  Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had shenever asked the gardeners?  "No," he answered. "They daren't.""Why?" asked Mary.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression..

  So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and thereshe was standing in the room!  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "No," he replied after waiting a moment or so.. read more

  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  "I am going to let you look at something," he said.  She had bright hair tied up with a blue ribbon and her gay,lovely eyes were exactly like Colin's unhappy ones,agate gray and looking twice as big as they really werebecause of the black lashes all round them..

  And then she told him about the robin and Ben Weatherstaff,and there was so much to tell about the robin and itwas so easy and safe to talk about it that she ceasedto be afraid. The robin pleased him so much that hesmiled until he looked almost beautiful, and at firstMary had thought that he was even plainer than herself,with his big eyes and heavy locks of hair.  The nurse went away yesterday to stay all night with hersister and she always makes Martha attend to me when shewants to go out. Martha shall tell you when to come here."Then Mary understood Martha's troubled look when shehad asked questions about the crying.  "If you don't like people to see you," she began,"do you want me to go away?"He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave ita little pull..

r to turn? She stopped and thought.  "I am Colin.""Who is Colin?" she faltered.  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy.  So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and thereshe was standing in the room!  "Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it.""I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat,"but if you make them open the door and take you in likethat it will never be a secret again."He leaned still farther forward..

  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  My father hates to think I may be like him.""Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.  "Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer,"and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India.  I want to hear about you."Mary put down her candle on the table near the bedand sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not wantto go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.  "Who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper.  "She is the one who is asleep in the other room.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression..

2014. read more

I  "Rub that and see how thick and warm it is," she said.  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani.  He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!  I found him."Martha's face became red with fright.  Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.  "What would Mrs. Medlock do if she found out that Ihad been here?" she inquired..

  I found him."Martha's face became red with fright.  "If you don't like people to see you," she began,"do you want me to go away?"He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave ita little pull.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin.  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  "You see--you see," she panted, "if no one knows butourselves--if there was a door, hidden somewhere underthe ivy--if there was--and we could find it; and if wecould slip through it together and shut it behind us,and no one knew any one was inside and we called it ourgarden and pretended that--that we were missel thrushesand it was our nest, and if we played there almost everyday and dug and planted seeds and made it all come alive--""Is it dead?" he interrupted her.  Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had shenever asked the gardeners?.

  He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said.  No one believes I shall live to grow up."He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that ithad ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to likethe sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking helistened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice shewondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze.  What a lot of things you know. I feel as if you had beeninside that garden."She did not know what to say, so she did not say anything.  Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice..

  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.  Do you know Martha?""Yes, I know her very well," said Mary. "She waits on me."He nodded his head toward the outer corridor.  "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes Ihave been taken to places at the seaside, but I won'tstay because people stare at me. I used to wear an ironthing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor camefrom London to see me and said it was stupid. He toldthem to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air.  "I am going to let you look at something," he said.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  He never seemed to have been amused, however. He could haveanything he asked for and was never made to do anything he didnot like to do. "Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me,"he said indifferently. "It makes me ill to be angry..

  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  "Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't wantto see me.""Why?" Mary could not help asking again.  But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject.  "No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,"was Mary's careful answer.  "Tha' hasn't!" she exclaimed. "Never!""I heard it in the night," Mary went on. "And I gotup and went to see where it came from. It was Colin.  "I never had a secret," he said, "except that one aboutnot living to grow up. They don't know I know that,so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better.""If you won't make them take you to the garden," pleaded Mary,"perhaps--I feel almost sure I can find out how to getin sometime. And then--if the doctor wants you to go outin your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do,perhaps--perhaps we might find some boy who would push you,and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.""I should--like--that," he said very slowly, his eyeslooking dreamy. "I should like that. I should not mindfresh air in a secret garden."Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer becausethe idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him..

  A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.  I want the key dug up. I want the door unlocked.  "I dare say," he answered. "Let us talk about something else.  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "Oh! just--just a garden she used to like," Mary stammered.  She came close to the bed and he put out his handand touched her.  "Go and pull it."Mary got up, much mystified, and found the cord.  He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!. read more

  The servants are not allowed to speak about me.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said.  "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night,and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.  "What are bulbs?" he put in quickly.  "Do you think you won't live?" she asked, partly becauseshe was curious and partly in hope of making him forgetthe garden.  "He locked the door. No one--no one knew where he buriedthe key." "What sort of a garden is it?" Colin persisted eagerly.  Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had shenever asked the gardeners?  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin..

  He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was cryingmore as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.  "No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,"was Mary's careful answer.  "No," he said. "I should be sure you were a dream if you went.  "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  And then she told him about the robin and Ben Weatherstaff,and there was so much to tell about the robin and itwas so easy and safe to talk about it that she ceasedto be afraid. The robin pleased him so much that hesmiled until he looked almost beautiful, and at firstMary had thought that he was even plainer than herself,with his big eyes and heavy locks of hair.  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy.  "Tha' hasn't!" she exclaimed. "Never!""I heard it in the night," Mary went on. "And I gotup and went to see where it came from. It was Colin.  "My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretchedto look at me. He thinks I don't know, but I've heardpeople talking. He almost hates me.""He hates the garden, because she died," said Mary halfspeaking to herself.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin..

  If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live.  "But if you stay in a room you never see things.  "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night,and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.  No one believes I shall live to grow up."He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that ithad ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to likethe sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking helistened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice shewondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze.  A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.  He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was cryingmore as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.  "They have to please me," he said. "I will make themtake me there and I will let you go, too."Mary's hands clutched each other. Everything wouldbe spoiled--everything! Dickon would never come back.  "Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer,"and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India.  "They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They areworking in the earth now--pushing up pale green pointsbecause the spring is coming.""Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? Youdon't see it in rooms if you are ill.""It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain fallingon the sunshine, and things pushing up and working underthe earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and wecould get into it we could watch the things grow biggerevery day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you..

  "I never had a secret," he said, "except that one aboutnot living to grow up. They don't know I know that,so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better.""If you won't make them take you to the garden," pleaded Mary,"perhaps--I feel almost sure I can find out how to getin sometime. And then--if the doctor wants you to go outin your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do,perhaps--perhaps we might find some boy who would push you,and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.""I should--like--that," he said very slowly, his eyeslooking dreamy. "I should like that. I should not mindfresh air in a secret garden."Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer becausethe idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin.  "Oh! just--just a garden she used to like," Mary stammered.  My father hates to think I may be like him.""Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said.  He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite;he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wantedto know what she had been doing; if she disliked the mooras he disliked it; where she had lived before she cameto Yorkshire. She answered all these questions and manymore and he lay back on his pillow and listened. He madeher tell him a great deal about India and about her voyageacross the ocean. She found out that because he had beenan invalid he had not learned things as other children had.  My father won't let people talk me over either.  Do you know Martha?""Yes, I know her very well," said Mary. "She waits on me."He nodded his head toward the outer corridor.  "But if you stay in a room you never see things.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said..

  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  I want to hear about you."Mary put down her candle on the table near the bedand sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not wantto go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.  She came close to the bed and he put out his handand touched her.  "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.  I want to hear about you."Mary put down her candle on the table near the bedand sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not wantto go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.  "Martha knew about you all the time?" she said.  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  I want to hear about you."Mary put down her candle on the table near the bedand sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not wantto go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.  "No," he replied after waiting a moment or so.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression..

  "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes Ihave been taken to places at the seaside, but I won'tstay because people stare at me. I used to wear an ironthing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor camefrom London to see me and said it was stupid. He toldthem to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air.  "No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,"was Mary's careful answer.  "It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously.  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani.  I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out.""I didn't when first I came here," said Mary. "Why doyou keep looking at me like that?""Because of the dreams that are so real," he answeredrather fretfully. "Sometimes when I open my eyes I don'tbelieve I'm awake.""We're both awake," said Mary. She glanced round the roomwith its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.. read more

2015 4:30 am   "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject.  My father hates to think I may be like him.""Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said..

  Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had shenever asked the gardeners?  "How old are you?" he asked.  But it was too late to be careful. He was too muchlike herself. He too had had nothing to think aboutand the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as ithad attracted her. He asked question after question.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin.  The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivoryand he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He hadalso a lot of hair which tumbled over his foreheadin heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller.  He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaitewhen my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't wantme to live.""Do you want to live?" inquired Mary.  "She would do as I told her to do," he answered.

  The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivoryand he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He hadalso a lot of hair which tumbled over his foreheadin heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller.  "It soon will be if no one cares for it," she went on.  "Everyone is obliged to please me. I told you that,"he said. "If I were to live, this place would sometimebelong to me. They all know that. I would make themtell me."Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled,but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boyhad been. He thought that the whole world belonged to him.  I will pat your hand and stroke it and sing somethingquite low.""I should like that perhaps," he said drowsily.  The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivoryand he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He hadalso a lot of hair which tumbled over his foreheadin heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool..

  "If you don't like people to see you," she began,"do you want me to go away?"He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave ita little pull.  "Yes," she answered.  He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was cryingmore as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.  It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it.  "She is my mother," said Colin complainingly. "I don'tsee why she died. Sometimes I hate her for doing it.""How queer!" said Mary.  "What garden door was locked? Who did it? Where wasthe key buried?" he exclaimed as if he were suddenlyvery much interested..

  He stared as if he thought she had gone crazy!The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "No," he replied after waiting a moment or so.  Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you!  "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night,and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  "What garden?" the boy asked.  My father won't let people talk me over either.  So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and thereshe was standing in the room!.

2017 5:44 am   "Eh! Miss Mary!" she said half crying. "Tha' shouldn'thave done it--tha' shouldn't! Tha'll get me in trouble.  It was the picture of a girl with a laughing face.  "He locked the door. No one--no one knew where he buriedthe key." "What sort of a garden is it?" Colin persisted eagerly.  She came close to the bed and he put out his handand touched her.  I never told thee nothin' about hi  "She would do as I told her to do," he answered.. read more

Chauhan.

  "Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't wantto see me.""Why?" Mary could not help asking again.  If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk.  "Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down..

  He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaitewhen my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't wantme to live.""Do you want to live?" inquired Mary.  "But if you stay in a room you never see things.  He evidently did not expect an answer and the next momenthe gave her a surprise.  A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.  "Because when you were born the garden door was lockedand the key was buried. And it has been locked for ten years."Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows.  "No," he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "But Idon't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and thinkabout it until I cry and cry.""I have heard you crying three times," Mary said, "but Idid not know who it was. Were you crying about that?"She did so want him to forget the garden.  "I am Colin.""Who is Colin?" she faltered.  I want the key dug up. I want the door unlocked.  "Shut your eyes," said Mary, drawing her footstool closer,"and I will do what my Ayah used to do in India.  "They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They areworking in the earth now--pushing up pale green pointsbecause the spring is coming.""Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? Youdon't see it in rooms if you are ill.""It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain fallingon the sunshine, and things pushing up and working underthe earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and wecould get into it we could watch the things grow biggerevery day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you.  "I dare say," he answered. "Let us talk about something else.  "She is my mother," said Colin complainingly. "I don'tsee why she died. Sometimes I hate her for doing it.""How queer!" said Mary..

  "Are you a ghost?""No, I am not," Mary answered, her own whisper soundinghalf frightened. "Are you one?"He stared and stared and stared. Mary could not helpnoticing what strange eyes he had. They were agategray and they looked too big for his face because theyhad black lashes all round them.  "I made them do it," he said. "Sometimes I don't like tosee her looking at me. She smiles too much when I am illand miserable. Besides, she is mine and I don't want everyoneto see her." There were a few moments of silence and then Maryspoke.  Where was it? Had she never looked for the door? Had shenever asked the gardeners?  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression..

  "How old are you?" he asked.  "No," he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "But Idon't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and thinkabout it until I cry and cry.""I have heard you crying three times," Mary said, "but Idid not know who it was. Were you crying about that?"She did so want him to forget the garden.  "They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They areworking in the earth now--pushing up pale green pointsbecause the spring is coming.""Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? Youdon't see it in rooms if you are ill.""It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain fallingon the sunshine, and things pushing up and working underthe earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and wecould get into it we could watch the things grow biggerevery day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "I do," he went on persistently. "I don't think I ever reallywanted to see anything before, but I want to see that garden..

  "Because I am like this always, ill and having to lie down.  "I never had a secret," he said, "except that one aboutnot living to grow up. They don't know I know that,so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better.""If you won't make them take you to the garden," pleaded Mary,"perhaps--I feel almost sure I can find out how to getin sometime. And then--if the doctor wants you to go outin your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do,perhaps--perhaps we might find some boy who would push you,and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.""I should--like--that," he said very slowly, his eyeslooking dreamy. "I should like that. I should not mindfresh air in a secret garden."Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer becausethe idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.  "She is the one who is asleep in the other room.  "Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't wantto see me.""Why?" Mary could not help asking again.  "If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always,"he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too..

  "If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always,"he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too.  "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes Ihave been taken to places at the seaside, but I won'tstay because people stare at me. I used to wear an ironthing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor camefrom London to see me and said it was stupid. He toldthem to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air.  "Eh! Miss Mary!" she said half crying. "Tha' shouldn'thave done it--tha' shouldn't! Tha'll get me in trouble.  A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.  One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was quitelittle and he was always reading and looking at picturesin splendid books.. read more

  "I will pinch you a little if you like, to show you how realI am. For a minute I thought you might be a dream too.""Where did you come from?" he asked.  "You are real, aren't you?" he said. "I have such realdreams very often. You might be one of them."Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before she lefther room and she put a piece of it between his fingers.  Yes, there was the tapestry door.  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  No one believes I shall live to grow up."He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that ithad ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to likethe sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking helistened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice shewondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze.  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani..

  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy.  "Because when you were born the garden door was lockedand the key was buried. And it has been locked for ten years."Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows.  When she pulled it the silk curtain ran back onrings and when it ran back it uncovered a picture.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin.  She came bringing the stocking she was always knittingwhen she was doing nothing else.  "If you don't like people to see you," she began,"do you want me to go away?"He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave ita little pull..

  "It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously.  "Do you think you won't live?" she asked, partly becauseshe was curious and partly in hope of making him forgetthe garden.  It was a curtain of soft silk hanging over what seemedto be some picture.  "Oh! just--just a garden she used to like," Mary stammered.  "They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They areworking in the earth now--pushing up pale green pointsbecause the spring is coming.""Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? Youdon't see it in rooms if you are ill.""It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain fallingon the sunshine, and things pushing up and working underthe earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and wecould get into it we could watch the things grow biggerevery day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you.  "Do you think you won't live?" she asked, partly becauseshe was curious and partly in hope of making him forgetthe garden..

  "No," he answered. "They daren't.""Why?" asked Mary.  Tell me your name again.""Mary Lennox. Did no one ever tell you I had cometo live here?"He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper, but hebegan to look a little more as if he believed in her reality.  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "I did not know birds could be like that," he said.  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "Do you see that rose-colored silk curtain hanging on thewall over the mantel-piece?"Mary had not noticed it before, but she looked up and saw it.  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.Chapter 14 A Young Rajah. read more

  "No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,"was Mary's careful answer.  "I did not know birds could be like that," he said.  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy..

  It was a curtain of soft silk hanging over what seemedto be some picture.  "I am going to let you look at something," he said.  "What garden?" the boy asked.  "I made them do it," he said. "Sometimes I don't like tosee her looking at me. She smiles too much when I am illand miserable. Besides, she is mine and I don't want everyoneto see her." There were a few moments of silence and then Maryspoke.  And then she told him about the robin and Ben Weatherstaff,and there was so much to tell about the robin and itwas so easy and safe to talk about it that she ceasedto be afraid. The robin pleased him so much that hesmiled until he looked almost beautiful, and at firstMary had thought that he was even plainer than herself,with his big eyes and heavy locks of hair.  "Eh! Miss Mary!" she said half crying. "Tha' shouldn'thave done it--tha' shouldn't! Tha'll get me in trouble..

  see? Oh, don't you see how much nicer it would be if itwas a secret?"He dropped back on his pillow and lay there with an oddexpression on his face.  "They are daffodils and lilies and snowdrops. They areworking in the earth now--pushing up pale green pointsbecause the spring is coming.""Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like? Youdon't see it in rooms if you are ill.""It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain fallingon the sunshine, and things pushing up and working underthe earth," said Mary. "If the garden was a secret and wecould get into it we could watch the things grow biggerevery day, and see how many roses are alive. Don't you.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.  But at last he asked a question which opened up a new subject.  "What garden door was locked? Who did it? Where wasthe key buried?" he exclaimed as if he were suddenlyvery much interested.  "Eh! Miss Mary!" she said half crying. "Tha' shouldn'thave done it--tha' shouldn't! Tha'll get me in trouble..

  I want to hear about you."Mary put down her candle on the table near the bedand sat down on the cushioned stool. She did not wantto go away at all. She wanted to stay in the mysterioushidden-away room and talk to the mysterious boy.  Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.  He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaitewhen my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't wantme to live.""Do you want to live?" inquired Mary.  The servants are not allowed to speak about me.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it..

  "No," he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "But Idon't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and thinkabout it until I cry and cry.""I have heard you crying three times," Mary said, "but Idid not know who it was. Were you crying about that?"She did so want him to forget the garden.  "Tha' hasn't!" she exclaimed. "Never!""I heard it in the night," Mary went on. "And I gotup and went to see where it came from. It was Colin.  "No one has been allowed to go into it for ten years,"was Mary's careful answer.  Tell me your name again.""Mary Lennox. Did no one ever tell you I had cometo live here?"He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper, but hebegan to look a little more as if he believed in her reality.  "It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously.  Yes it was. Down this passage and then to the left,and then up two broad steps, and then to the right again.. read more

  "Oh, don't--don't--don't--don't do that!" she cried out.  He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was cryingmore as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.  Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.  "What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret.  "If you don't like people to see you," she began,"do you want me to go away?"He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave ita little pull.  I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out.""I didn't when first I came here," said Mary. "Why doyou keep looking at me like that?""Because of the dreams that are so real," he answeredrather fretfully. "Sometimes when I open my eyes I don'tbelieve I'm awake.""We're both awake," said Mary. She glanced round the roomwith its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light..

  She came close to the bed and he put out his handand touched her.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.  "I don't suppose I shall," he answered as indifferentlyas he had spoken before. "Ever since I remember anythingI have heard people say I shan't. At first they thoughtI was too little to understand and now they think Idon't hear. But I do. My doctor is my father's cousin.  It was a big room with ancient, handsome furniture in it.  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "Do you think you won't live?" she asked, partly becauseshe was curious and partly in hope of making him forgetthe garden..

  "Oh, don't--don't--don't--don't do that!" she cried out.  "Do you see that rose-colored silk curtain hanging on thewall over the mantel-piece?"Mary had not noticed it before, but she looked up and saw it.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "But if you stay in a room you never see things.  "Do you see that rose-colored silk curtain hanging on thewall over the mantel-piece?"Mary had not noticed it before, but she looked up and saw it.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression.  "No," he replied after waiting a moment or so.  "That is nice," he said more drowsily still, and she wenton chanting and stroking, but when she looked at him againhis black lashes were lying close against his cheeks,for his eyes were shut and he was fast asleep. So shegot up softly, took her candle and crept away withoutmaking a sound.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.  "No," he answered. "They daren't.""Why?" asked Mary.  "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  "I did not know birds could be like that," he said..

  "Have you been here always?" "Nearly always. Sometimes Ihave been taken to places at the seaside, but I won'tstay because people stare at me. I used to wear an ironthing to keep my back straight, but a grand doctor camefrom London to see me and said it was stupid. He toldthem to take it off and keep me out in the fresh air.  "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  No one believes I shall live to grow up."He said it as if he was so accustomed to the idea that ithad ceased to matter to him at all. He seemed to likethe sound of Mary's voice. As she went on talking helistened in a drowsy, interested way. Once or twice shewondered if he were not gradually falling into a doze.  "No," he answered. "They daren't.""Why?" asked Mary.  If he could make people answer questions, who knew whatmight happen!  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "What garden?" the boy asked.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said..

  "What's the matter with thee?" she asked as soon as theysat down. "Tha' looks as if tha'd somethin' to say.""I have. I have found out what the crying was,"said Mary.  He looked like a boy who had been ill, but he was cryingmore as if he were tired and cross than as if he were in pain.  "How old are you?" he asked.  He is quite poor and if I die he will have all Misselthwaitewhen my father is dead. I should think he wouldn't wantme to live.""Do you want to live?" inquired Mary.  The boy had a sharp, delicate face the color of ivoryand he seemed to have eyes too big for it. He hadalso a lot of hair which tumbled over his foreheadin heavy locks and made his thin face seem smaller.  "Rub that and see how thick and warm it is," she said.  "Do you see that rose-colored silk curtain hanging on thewall over the mantel-piece?"Mary had not noticed it before, but she looked up and saw it.  I will pat your hand and stroke it and sing somethingquite low.""I should like that perhaps," he said drowsily.  But it was too late to be careful. He was too muchlike herself. He too had had nothing to think aboutand the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as ithad attracted her. He asked question after question.

  She had bright hair tied up with a blue ribbon and her gay,lovely eyes were exactly like Colin's unhappy ones,agate gray and looking twice as big as they really werebecause of the black lashes all round them.  "Who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper.  "He locked the door. No one--no one knew where he buriedthe key." "What sort of a garden is it?" Colin persisted eagerly.  "It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night,and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.  One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was quitelittle and he was always reading and looking at picturesin splendid books.  The servants are not allowed to speak about me.The moor was hidden in mist when the morning came,and the rain had not stopped pouring down. There couldbe no going out of doors. Martha was so busy that Maryhad no opportunity of talking to her, but in the afternoonshe asked her to come and sit with her in the nursery.  "You see--you see," she panted, "if no one knows butourselves--if there was a door, hidden somewhere underthe ivy--if there was--and we could find it; and if wecould slip through it together and shut it behind us,and no one knew any one was inside and we called it ourgarden and pretended that--that we were missel thrushesand it was our nest, and if we played there almost everyday and dug and planted seeds and made it all come alive--""Is it dead?" he interrupted her.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.

2016 9:49 am   "Eh! Miss Mary!" she said half crying. "Tha' shouldn'thave done it--tha' shouldn't! Tha'll get me in trouble.  Yes, there was the tapestry door.  "From my own room. The wind wuthered so I couldn't goto sleep and I heard some one crying and wanted to findout who it was. What were you crying for?""Because I couldn't go to sleep either and my head ached.  And my father would not have hated to look at me. I daresay I should have had a strong back. Draw the curtain again."Mary did as she was told and returned to her footstool.  "It soon will be if no one cares for it," she went on.  We are wide awake.""I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.  My father hates to think I may be like him.""Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said.  My father won't let people talk me over either.  "Because I should have been afraid you would see me.. read more

  "I dare say," he answered. "Let us talk about something else.  He wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite;he wanted to know which corridor her room was on; he wantedto know what she had been doing; if she disliked the mooras he disliked it; where she had lived before she cameto Yorkshire. She answered all these questions and manymore and he lay back on his pillow and listened. He madeher tell him a great deal about India and about her voyageacross the ocean. She found out that because he had beenan invalid he had not learned things as other children had.  "I did not know birds could be like that," he said.  She felt almost sure that if she kept on talking and couldmake him see the garden in his mind as she had seen ithe would like it so much that he could not bear to thinkthat everybody might tramp in to it when they chose.  But it was too late to be careful. He was too muchlike herself. He too had had nothing to think aboutand the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as ithad attracted her. He asked question after question.  "Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me hehad a boy! Why didn't they?""Come here," he said, still keeping his strange eyesfixed on her with an anxious expression..

  "I never had a secret," he said, "except that one aboutnot living to grow up. They don't know I know that,so it is a sort of secret. But I like this kind better.""If you won't make them take you to the garden," pleaded Mary,"perhaps--I feel almost sure I can find out how to getin sometime. And then--if the doctor wants you to go outin your chair, and if you can always do what you want to do,perhaps--perhaps we might find some boy who would push you,and we could go alone and it would always be a secret garden.""I should--like--that," he said very slowly, his eyeslooking dreamy. "I should like that. I should not mindfresh air in a secret garden."Mary began to recover her breath and feel safer becausethe idea of keeping the secret seemed to please him.  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  "I did not know birds could be like that," he said.  If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live.  She had bright hair tied up with a blue ribbon and her gay,lovely eyes were exactly like Colin's unhappy ones,agate gray and looking twice as big as they really werebecause of the black lashes all round them.  "If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always,"he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too..

  "Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it.""I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat,"but if you make them open the door and take you in likethat it will never be a secret again."He leaned still farther forward.  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.  There was a low fire glowing faintly on the hearth and anight light burning by the side of a carved four-postedbed hung with brocade, and on the bed was lying a boy,crying fretfully.  "How old are you?" he asked.  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  "Yes; she often attends to me. The nurse likes to getaway from me and then Martha comes.""I have been here a long time," said Mary. "Shall I goaway now? Your eyes look sleepy.""I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me,"he said rather shyly.

  How peculiar he was and how coolly he spoke of not living.  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.Chapter 14 A Young Rajah  "Yes," she answered.  She came close to the bed and he put out his handand touched her.  If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk..

  Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you!  Do you know Martha?""Yes, I know her very well," said Mary. "She waits on me."He nodded his head toward the outer corridor.  "I am ten," answered Mary, forgetting herself for the moment,"and so are you.""How do you know that?" he demanded in a surprised voice.  I will pat your hand and stroke it and sing somethingquite low.""I should like that perhaps," he said drowsily.  Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand,holding her breath. Then she crept across the room, and,as she drew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attentionand he turned his head on his pillow and stared at her,his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense.  "They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think theyhave been told not to answer questions.""I would make them," said Colin..

  "I'll tell you what I think it would be like, if we couldgo into it," she said. "It has been shut up so longthings have grown into a tangle perhaps."He lay quite still and listened while she went on talkingabout the roses which might have clambered from treeto tree and hung down--about the many birds which mighthave built their nests there because it was so safe.  But it was too late to be careful. He was too muchlike herself. He too had had nothing to think aboutand the idea of a hidden garden attracted him as ithad attracted her. He asked question after question.  If he could make people answer questions, who knew whatmight happen!  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.  "A secret," he said. "What do you mean? Tell me."Mary's words almost tumbled over one another.  "A secret," he said. "What do you mean? Tell me."Mary's words almost tumbled over one another.. read more

  "How old are you?" he asked.  "What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret.  "Could you?" Mary faltered, beginning to feel frightened.  "Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it.""I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat,"but if you make them open the door and take you in likethat it will never be a secret again."He leaned still farther forward.  Though his father rarely saw him when he was awake, he wasgiven all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with.  "What are bulbs?" he put in quickly..

  "I am ten," answered Mary, forgetting herself for the moment,"and so are you.""How do you know that?" he demanded in a surprised voice.  I won't let people see me and talk me over.""Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified every moment.  "I made them do it," he said. "Sometimes I don't like tosee her looking at me. She smiles too much when I am illand miserable. Besides, she is mine and I don't want everyoneto see her." There were a few moments of silence and then Maryspoke.  "Yes; she often attends to me. The nurse likes to getaway from me and then Martha comes.""I have been here a long time," said Mary. "Shall I goaway now? Your eyes look sleepy.""I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me,"he said rather shyly.  "Why?" he exclaimed. "You said you wanted to see it.""I do," she answered almost with a sob in her throat,"but if you make them open the door and take you in likethat it will never be a secret again."He leaned still farther forward.  "No," he said. "I should be sure you were a dream if you went..

  "If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always,"he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too.  "Because when you were born the garden door was lockedand the key was buried. And it has been locked for ten years."Colin half sat up, turning toward her, leaning on his elbows.  So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and thereshe was standing in the room!  Though his father rarely saw him when he was awake, he wasgiven all sorts of wonderful things to amuse himself with.  "You are real, aren't you?" he said. "I have such realdreams very often. You might be one of them."Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before she lefther room and she put a piece of it between his fingers.  "Tha' hasn't!" she exclaimed. "Never!""I heard it in the night," Mary went on. "And I gotup and went to see where it came from. It was Colin..

  It was a curtain of soft silk hanging over what seemedto be some picture.  She had bright hair tied up with a blue ribbon and her gay,lovely eyes were exactly like Colin's unhappy ones,agate gray and looking twice as big as they really werebecause of the black lashes all round them.  When she pulled it the silk curtain ran back onrings and when it ran back it uncovered a picture.  "No," he replied after waiting a moment or so.  I hate fresh air and I don't want to go out.""I didn't when first I came here," said Mary. "Why doyou keep looking at me like that?""Because of the dreams that are so real," he answeredrather fretfully. "Sometimes when I open my eyes I don'tbelieve I'm awake.""We're both awake," said Mary. She glanced round the roomwith its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim fire-light.  "What would Mrs. Medlock do if she found out that Ihad been here?" she inquired.  Talk about that garden. Don't you want to see it?""Yes," answered Mary, in quite a low voice.  "But if you stay in a room you never see things.  "What would Mrs. Medlock do if she found out that Ihad been here?" she inquired..

  If I live I may be a hunchback, but I shan't live.  A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.  "Everyone is obliged to please me. I told you that,"he said. "If I were to live, this place would sometimebelong to me. They all know that. I would make themtell me."Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled,but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boyhad been. He thought that the whole world belonged to him.  "Yes; she often attends to me. The nurse likes to getaway from me and then Martha comes.""I have been here a long time," said Mary. "Shall I goaway now? Your eyes look sleepy.""I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me,"he said rather shyly.  Mary stood near the door with her candle in her hand,holding her breath. Then she crept across the room, and,as she drew nearer, the light attracted the boy's attentionand he turned his head on his pillow and stared at her,his gray eyes opening so wide that they seemed immense.  "Martha knew about you all the time?" she said..

  "It--it was the garden Mr. Craven hates," said Mary nervously.  "I am going to let you look at something," he said.  My father hates to think I may be like him.""Oh, what a queer house this is!" Mary said.  "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?""I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle.""He is my father," said the boy.  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.  Somehow she was sorry for him and did not want himto lie awake, so she leaned against the bed and beganto stroke and pat his hand and sing a very low littlechanting song in Hindustani.  Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you!  "Yes," she answered.  "What do you want me to tell you?" she said..

  My father won't let people talk me over either.  "There is a cord hanging from it," said Colin.  I found him."Martha's face became red with fright.  "You see--you see," she panted, "if no one knows butourselves--if there was a door, hidden somewhere underthe ivy--if there was--and we could find it; and if wecould slip through it together and shut it behind us,and no one knew any one was inside and we called it ourgarden and pretended that--that we were missel thrushesand it was our nest, and if we played there almost everyday and dug and planted seeds and made it all come alive--""Is it dead?" he interrupted her.  "Rub that and see how thick and warm it is," she said.  "Yes; she often attends to me. The nurse likes to getaway from me and then Martha comes.""I have been here a long time," said Mary. "Shall I goaway now? Your eyes look sleepy.""I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me,"he said rather shyly.. read more