"What do you do in your cottage when it rains like this?"she asked Martha.  "Do you hear any one crying?" she said.  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.

弌致,弁勺   "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  Its mother had been killed nearby an' th' hole was swumout an' th' rest o' th' litter was dead. He's got it athome now. He found a half-drowned young crow another time an'.

  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade overhis shoulder and walked off, without even glancingat her or saying good-by.  "It's very queer," she said. "Ben Weatherstaff saidthere was no door and there is no door. But there musthave been one ten years ago, because Mr. Craven buriedthe key."This gave her so much to think of that she began to bequite interested and feel that she was not sorry that shehad come to Misselthwaite Manor. In India she had alwaysfelt hot and too languid to care much about anything..

  His troubles are none servants' business, he says.  She supposed that perhaps this was the English way oftreating children. In India she had always been attendedby her Ayah, who had followed her about and waited on her,hand and foot. She had often been tired of her company.  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'  branch broke an' she fell on th' ground an' was hurtso bad that next day she died. Th' doctors thought he'dgo out o' his mind an' die, too. That's why he hates it.  His troubles are none servants' business, he says.  "Hasn't tha' got good sense?" she said once, when Maryhad stood waiting for her to put on her gloves for her..

  "You could bare stand up on the moor if you was out onit tonight."Mary did not know what "wutherin'" meant until she listened,and then she understood. It must mean that hollowshuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round thehouse as if the giant no one could see were buffeting itand beating at the walls and windows to try to break in.  "It was th' wind," said Martha stubbornly.  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire..

  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said.  he brought it home, too, an' tamed it. It's named Sootbecause it's so black, an' it hops an' flies about withhim everywhere."The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resentMartha's familiar talk. She had even begun to find itinteresting and to be sorry when she stopped or went away.. read more

  In fact, there was no one to see but the servants,and when their master was away they lived a luxuriouslife below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hungabout with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants'  There were doors and doors, and there were pictureson the walls. Sometimes they were pictures of dark,curious landscapes, but oftenest they were portraitsof men and women in queer, grand costumes made of satinand velvet. She found herself in one long gallerywhose walls were covered with these portraits. She hadnever thought there could be so many in any house.  I warrant th' foxes shows him where their cubslies an' th' skylarks doesn't hide their nests from him."Mary would have liked to ask some more questions..

  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said.  The stories she had been told by her Ayah when she livedin India had been quite unlike those Martha had to tell aboutthe moorland cottage which held fourteen people who livedin four little rooms and never had quite enough to eat.  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least..

  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  When Martha told stories of what "mother" said or did theyalways sounded comfortable.  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said.

  "Mind," she said, "Mrs. Medlock said it's not to betalked about. There's lots o' things in this place that'snot to be talked over. That's Mr. Craven's orders.  "Our Susan Ann is twice as sharp as thee an' she's onlyfour year' old. Sometimes tha' looks fair soft in th' head."Mary had worn her contrary scowl for an hour after that,but it made her think several entirely new things.  nothin' to put in it. You go on playin' you out o'.

  In fact, there was no one to see but the servants,and when their master was away they lived a luxuriouslife below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hungabout with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants'  That reminded Mary of the first time she had seen him.  There was one part of the wall where the creeping darkgreen leaves were more bushy than elsewhere. It seemedas if for a long time that part had been neglected..

  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  It was the long walk outside the gardens with the wallsround them. There were bare flower-beds on eitherside of it and against the walls ivy grew thickly.  shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout,but she looked at things. There was nothing else to do.. read more

  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  shut th' door an' stay there hours an' hours, readin'  The biggest ones goes out in th' cow-shed and plays there..

ay it either in her hard little voiceor in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so softand eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprisedas she had been when she heard him whistle.  "You could bare stand up on the moor if you was out onit tonight."Mary did not know what "wutherin'" meant until she listened,and then she understood. It must mean that hollowshuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round thehouse as if the giant no one could see were buffeting itand beating at the walls and windows to try to break in.  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'.

  At last he spread his wings and made a darting flightto the top of a tree, where he perched and sang loudly.  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  The fact was that the fresh wind from the moor had begunto blow the cobwebs out of her young brain and to wakenher up a little.  "If I had a raven or a fox cub I could play with it,"said Mary. "But I have nothing."Martha looked perplexed.  Now she was followed by nobody and was learning to dressherself because Martha looked as though she thought she wassilly and stupid when she wanted to have things handed to herand put on.  One place she went to oftener than to any other..

  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  She stood at the window for about ten minutes this morningafter Martha had swept up the hearth for the last timeand gone downstairs. She was thinking over the new ideawhich had come to her when she heard of the library.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  Tha' said it almost like Dickon talks to his wild things on th'  No one's never gone in since, an' he won't let any one talkabout it."Mary did not ask any more questions. She looked atthe red fire and listened to the wind "wutherin'."It seemed to be "wutherin'" louder than ever..

2014. read more

I  "But why did he hate it so?" she asked, after shehad listened. She intended to know if Martha did.The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.  One place she went to oftener than to any other.  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  "It tastes nice today," said Mary, feeling a littlesurprised her self.  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said..

  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  "No," she answered. "It's th' wind. Sometimes itsounds like as if some one was lost on th' moor an'  "Can tha' knit?" she asked.  "There was ten year' ago," he mumbled.  He did answer. He twittered and chirped and hopped alongthe wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things.  "No door!" cried Mary. "There must be." "None as anyone can find, an' none as is any one's business..

  hall where there were four or five abundant meals eatenevery day, and where a great deal of lively romping went onwhen Mrs. Medlock was out of the way.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said.  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least.  "It was th' wind," said Martha stubbornly.  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out..

  There's been twelve in our cottage as had th' stomach an'  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.  No one's never gone in since, an' he won't let any one talkabout it."Mary did not ask any more questions. She looked atthe red fire and listened to the wind "wutherin'."It seemed to be "wutherin'" louder than ever.  "Everybody knows him. Dickon's wanderin' about everywhere.  She ran only to make herself warm, and she hated the windwhich rushed at her face and roared and held her backas if it were some giant she could not see. But the bigbreaths of rough fresh air blown over the heather filledher lungs with something which was good for her wholethin body and whipped some red color into her cheeks andbrightened her dull eyes when she did not know anythingabout it.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:.

  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  Once when she was walking toward him he picked up his spadeand turned away as if he did it on purpose.  Martha suddenly looked confused.Chapter 6 There Was Someone Crying--There Was!  How I wish I could see what it is like!"She ran up the walk to the green door she had enteredthe first morning. Then she ran down the path throughthe other door and then into the orchard, and when shestood and looked up there was the tree on the other sideof the wall, and there was the robin just finishing hissong and, beginning to preen his feathers with his beak.  Mrs. Medlock came and looked at her every day or two,but no one inquired what she did or told her what to do..

  nothin' to put in it. You go on playin' you out o'  She stood at the window for about ten minutes this morningafter Martha had swept up the hearth for the last timeand gone downstairs. She was thinking over the new ideawhich had come to her when she heard of the library.  "There was ten year' ago," he mumbled.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  In this queer place one scarcely ever saw any one at all.  When Martha told stories of what "mother" said or did theyalways sounded comfortable.  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.. read more

ay it either in her hard little voiceor in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so softand eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprisedas she had been when she heard him whistle.  In fact, there was no one to see but the servants,and when their master was away they lived a luxuriouslife below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hungabout with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants'  One place she went to oftener than to any other.  "I should like to see them," said Mary. "Where isthe green door? There must be a door somewhere."Ben drove his spade deep and looked as uncompanionableas he had looked when she first saw him.  She sat down on the hearth herself without waitingto be asked.  Martha tucked her feet under her and made herselfquite comfortable.  At last he spread his wings and made a darting flightto the top of a tree, where he perched and sang loudly.  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  and talkin'. An, she was just a bit of a girl an'.

  "But why did he hate it so?" she asked, after shehad listened. She intended to know if Martha did.  "But why did he hate it so?" she asked, after shehad listened. She intended to know if Martha did.  Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade overhis shoulder and walked off, without even glancingat her or saying good-by.  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  At last he spread his wings and made a darting flightto the top of a tree, where he perched and sang loudly.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  The stories she had been told by her Ayah when she livedin India had been quite unlike those Martha had to tell aboutthe moorland cottage which held fourteen people who livedin four little rooms and never had quite enough to eat..

  She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor,and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridorand it branched into other corridors and it led her upshort flights of steps which mounted to others again.  "No," she answered. "It's th' wind. Sometimes itsounds like as if some one was lost on th' moor an'  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors.  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.  He did answer. He twittered and chirped and hopped alongthe wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things.  She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivyswinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet andheard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall,forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast,tilting forward to look at her with his small head onone side.At first each day which passed by for Mary Lennoxwas exactly like the others. Every morning she awokein her tapestried room and found Martha kneeling uponthe hearth building her fire; every morning she ate herbreakfast in the nursery which had nothing amusing in it;and after each breakfast she gazed out of the windowacross to the huge moor which seemed to spread out on allsides and climb up to the sky, and after she had staredfor a while she realized that if she did not go out shewould have to stay in and do nothing--and so she went out..

  She sat down on the hearth herself without waitingto be asked.  She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was aboutthe deserted garden. But just that moment the robin,who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings,spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and hadother things to do.  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  Dickon he doesn't mind th' wet. He goes out just th'  Now she was followed by nobody and was learning to dressherself because Martha looked as though she thought she wassilly and stupid when she wanted to have things handed to herand put on.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  Mrs. Medlock came and looked at her every day or two,but no one inquired what she did or told her what to do.  Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge..

  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  hall where there were four or five abundant meals eatenevery day, and where a great deal of lively romping went onwhen Mrs. Medlock was out of the way.  "Oh!" she cried out, "is it you--is it you?" And itdid not seem at all queer to her that she spoke to himas if she were sure that he would understand and answer her.  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.  He did answer. He twittered and chirped and hopped alongthe wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.  It was the long walk outside the gardens with the wallsround them. There were bare flower-beds on eitherside of it and against the walls ivy grew thickly.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.  same as if th' sun was shinin'. He says he sees thingson rainy days as doesn't show when it's fair weather.  He once found a little fox cub half drowned in its hole and hebrought it home in th' bosom of his shirt to keep it warm..

  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.  He did answer. He twittered and chirped and hopped alongthe wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things.  She sat down on the hearth herself without waitingto be asked.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire.  At that moment a very good thing was happening to her.. read more

2015 4:30 am   Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge.  "Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said.  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out..

  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  "No," she answered. "It's th' wind. Sometimes itsounds like as if some one was lost on th' moor an'  "If I had a raven or a fox cub I could play with it,"said Mary. "But I have nothing."Martha looked perplexed.  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  "Why," he cried out, "tha' said that as nice an' human asif tha' was a real child instead of a sharp old woman.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'

  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  he brought it home, too, an' tamed it. It's named Sootbecause it's so black, an' it hops an' flies about withhim everywhere."The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resentMartha's familiar talk. She had even begun to find itinteresting and to be sorry when she stopped or went away.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there.  there was an old tree with a branch bent like a seaton it. An' she made roses grow over it an' she usedto sit there. But one day when she was sittin' there th'  "It was th' wind," said Martha stubbornly.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there..

  In this queer place one scarcely ever saw any one at all.  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  "It's very queer," she said. "Ben Weatherstaff saidthere was no door and there is no door. But there musthave been one ten years ago, because Mr. Craven buriedthe key."This gave her so much to think of that she began to bequite interested and feel that she was not sorry that shehad come to Misselthwaite Manor. In India she had alwaysfelt hot and too languid to care much about anything.  "It's th' air of th' moor that's givin' thee stomachfor tha' victuals," answered Martha. "It's luckyfor thee that tha's got victuals as well as appetite.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire..

  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  She sat down on the hearth herself without waitingto be asked.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.  How I wish I could see what it is like!"She ran up the walk to the green door she had enteredthe first morning. Then she ran down the path throughthe other door and then into the orchard, and when shestood and looked up there was the tree on the other sideof the wall, and there was the robin just finishing hissong and, beginning to preen his feathers with his beak.  That reminded Mary of the first time she had seen him.  "There!" said Mary. "I told you so! It is some onecrying--and it isn't a grown-up person."Martha ran and shut the door and turned the key, but beforeshe did it they both heard the sound of a door in some farpassage shutting with a bang, and then everything was quiet,for even the wind ceased "wutherin'" for a few moments.  Don't you be a meddlesome wench an' poke your nose whereit's no cause to go. Here, I must go on with my work.  Martha suddenly looked confused..

2017 5:44 am   he brought it home, too, an' tamed it. It's named Sootbecause it's so black, an' it hops an' flies about withhim everywhere."The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resentMartha's familiar talk. She had even begun to find itinteresting and to be sorry when she stopped or went away.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there.  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  "It's in the garden no one can go into," she said to herself.  But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It wasMrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first theywere married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tendthe flowers themselves. An' none o' th' gardeners wasever let to go in. Him an' her used to go in an'  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out.. read more

Chauhan.

  shut th' door an' stay there hours an' hours, readin'  "An' if it wasn't, it was little Betty Butterworth,th' scullery-maid. She's had th' toothache all day."But something troubled and awkward in her manner madeMistress Mary stare very hard at her. She did not believeshe was speaking the truth.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then..

  Martha tucked her feet under her and made herselfquite comfortable.  Now she was followed by nobody and was learning to dressherself because Martha looked as though she thought she wassilly and stupid when she wanted to have things handed to herand put on.  and talkin'. An, she was just a bit of a girl an'  Once when she was walking toward him he picked up his spadeand turned away as if he did it on purpose.  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors.  There were doors and doors, and there were pictureson the walls. Sometimes they were pictures of dark,curious landscapes, but oftenest they were portraitsof men and women in queer, grand costumes made of satinand velvet. She found herself in one long gallerywhose walls were covered with these portraits. She hadnever thought there could be so many in any house.  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  He did answer. He twittered and chirped and hopped alongthe wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things.  Th' very blackberries an' heather-bells knows him.  It was the long walk outside the gardens with the wallsround them. There were bare flower-beds on eitherside of it and against the walls ivy grew thickly.  But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It wasMrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first theywere married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tendthe flowers themselves. An' none o' th' gardeners wasever let to go in. Him an' her used to go in an'  The biggest ones goes out in th' cow-shed and plays there..

  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  "But why did he hate it so?" she asked, after shehad listened. She intended to know if Martha did.ay it either in her hard little voiceor in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so softand eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprisedas she had been when she heard him whistle.  She turned round and looked at Martha.  shut th' door an' stay there hours an' hours, readin'  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors..

  Its mother had been killed nearby an' th' hole was swumout an' th' rest o' th' litter was dead. He's got it athome now. He found a half-drowned young crow another time an'  There were doors and doors, and there were pictureson the walls. Sometimes they were pictures of dark,curious landscapes, but oftenest they were portraitsof men and women in queer, grand costumes made of satinand velvet. She found herself in one long gallerywhose walls were covered with these portraits. She hadnever thought there could be so many in any house.  Mary was most attracted by the mother and Dickon.  When Martha told stories of what "mother" said or did theyalways sounded comfortable.  She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor,and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridorand it branched into other corridors and it led her upshort flights of steps which mounted to others again.ay it either in her hard little voiceor in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so softand eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprisedas she had been when she heard him whistle..

  Its mother had been killed nearby an' th' hole was swumout an' th' rest o' th' litter was dead. He's got it athome now. He found a half-drowned young crow another time an'  She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor,and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridorand it branched into other corridors and it led her upshort flights of steps which mounted to others again.  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  It was the long walk outside the gardens with the wallsround them. There were bare flower-beds on eitherside of it and against the walls ivy grew thickly.  She ran only to make herself warm, and she hated the windwhich rushed at her face and roared and held her backas if it were some giant she could not see. But the bigbreaths of rough fresh air blown over the heather filledher lungs with something which was good for her wholethin body and whipped some red color into her cheeks andbrightened her dull eyes when she did not know anythingabout it.  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her..

  Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge.  Mary was most attracted by the mother and Dickon.  there was an old tree with a branch bent like a seaton it. An' she made roses grow over it an' she usedto sit there. But one day when she was sittin' there th'  One place she went to oftener than to any other.  There's been twelve in our cottage as had th' stomach an'  "Our Susan Ann is twice as sharp as thee an' she's onlyfour year' old. Sometimes tha' looks fair soft in th' head."Mary had worn her contrary scowl for an hour after that,but it made her think several entirely new things.. read more

  The biggest ones goes out in th' cow-shed and plays there.  "Can tha'sew?""No.""Can tha' read?""Yes.""Then why doesn't tha, read somethin', or learn a bit o'  "It was th' wind," said Martha stubbornly.  At last he spread his wings and made a darting flightto the top of a tree, where he perched and sang loudly.  She opened the door of the room and went into the corridor,and then she began her wanderings. It was a long corridorand it branched into other corridors and it led her upshort flights of steps which mounted to others again.  The fact was that the fresh wind from the moor had begunto blow the cobwebs out of her young brain and to wakenher up a little..

  How I wish I could see what it is like!"She ran up the walk to the green door she had enteredthe first morning. Then she ran down the path throughthe other door and then into the orchard, and when shestood and looked up there was the tree on the other sideof the wall, and there was the robin just finishing hissong and, beginning to preen his feathers with his beak.  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  She had made Martha stay with her and Martha had notobjected at all. She was very young, and used to a crowdedcottage full of brothers and sisters, and she found itdull in the great servants' hall downstairs where thefootman and upper-housemaids made fun of her Yorkshirespeech and looked upon her as a common little thing,and sat and whispered among themselves. Martha likedto talk, and the strange child who had lived in India,and been waited upon by "blacks," was novelty enoughto attract her.  She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was aboutthe deserted garden. But just that moment the robin,who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings,spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and hadother things to do.  "I should like to see them," said Mary. "Where isthe green door? There must be a door somewhere."Ben drove his spade deep and looked as uncompanionableas he had looked when she first saw him..

  But after a few days spent almost entirely out of doorsshe wakened one morning knowing what it was to be hungry,and when she sat down to her breakfast she did not glancedisdainfully at her porridge and push it away, but tookup her spoon and began to eat it and went on eating ituntil her bowl was empty.  She had made Martha stay with her and Martha had notobjected at all. She was very young, and used to a crowdedcottage full of brothers and sisters, and she found itdull in the great servants' hall downstairs where thefootman and upper-housemaids made fun of her Yorkshirespeech and looked upon her as a common little thing,and sat and whispered among themselves. Martha likedto talk, and the strange child who had lived in India,and been waited upon by "blacks," was novelty enoughto attract her.  "No," answered Mary.  "Our Susan Ann is twice as sharp as thee an' she's onlyfour year' old. Sometimes tha' looks fair soft in th' head."Mary had worn her contrary scowl for an hour after that,but it made her think several entirely new things.  and talkin'. An, she was just a bit of a girl an'  She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivyswinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet andheard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall,forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast,tilting forward to look at her with his small head onone side..

  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  "No," she answered. "It's th' wind. Sometimes itsounds like as if some one was lost on th' moor an'  "It tastes nice today," said Mary, feeling a littlesurprised her self.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  "An' if it wasn't, it was little Betty Butterworth,th' scullery-maid. She's had th' toothache all day."But something troubled and awkward in her manner madeMistress Mary stare very hard at her. She did not believeshe was speaking the truth.  His troubles are none servants' business, he says.  She wondered if they were all really locked and whatshe would find if she could get into any of them.  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.. read more

  nothin' to put in it. You go on playin' you out o'  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out..

  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  Martha suddenly looked confused.At first each day which passed by for Mary Lennoxwas exactly like the others. Every morning she awokein her tapestried room and found Martha kneeling uponthe hearth building her fire; every morning she ate herbreakfast in the nursery which had nothing amusing in it;and after each breakfast she gazed out of the windowacross to the huge moor which seemed to spread out on allsides and climb up to the sky, and after she had staredfor a while she realized that if she did not go out shewould have to stay in and do nothing--and so she went out.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire.  Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade overhis shoulder and walked off, without even glancingat her or saying good-by.  shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout,but she looked at things. There was nothing else to do..

  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge.  moor.""Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round ratherin a hurry.  "Our Susan Ann is twice as sharp as thee an' she's onlyfour year' old. Sometimes tha' looks fair soft in th' head."Mary had worn her contrary scowl for an hour after that,but it made her think several entirely new things.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there.  "Our Susan Ann is twice as sharp as thee an' she's onlyfour year' old. Sometimes tha' looks fair soft in th' head."Mary had worn her contrary scowl for an hour after that,but it made her think several entirely new things..

  When Martha told stories of what "mother" said or did theyalways sounded comfortable.Chapter 5 The Cry In The Corridor  "Can tha'sew?""No.""Can tha' read?""Yes.""Then why doesn't tha, read somethin', or learn a bit o'  "Oh!" she cried out, "is it you--is it you?" And itdid not seem at all queer to her that she spoke to himas if she were sure that he would understand and answer her.  "Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire..

  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  His troubles are none servants' business, he says.  She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivyswinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet andheard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall,forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast,tilting forward to look at her with his small head onone side.. read more

  The biggest ones goes out in th' cow-shed and plays there.  But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It wasMrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first theywere married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tendthe flowers themselves. An' none o' th' gardeners wasever let to go in. Him an' her used to go in an'  "No door!" cried Mary. "There must be." "None as anyone can find, an' none as is any one's business.  The rest of it had been clipped and made to look neat,but at this lower end of the walk it had not been trimmedat all.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  The stories she had been told by her Ayah when she livedin India had been quite unlike those Martha had to tell aboutthe moorland cottage which held fourteen people who livedin four little rooms and never had quite enough to eat..

  Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade overhis shoulder and walked off, without even glancingat her or saying good-by.  She turned round and looked at Martha.  I warrant th' foxes shows him where their cubslies an' th' skylarks doesn't hide their nests from him."Mary would have liked to ask some more questions.  "No," answered Mary.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  Its mother had been killed nearby an' th' hole was swumout an' th' rest o' th' litter was dead. He's got it athome now. He found a half-drowned young crow another time an'.

  But after a few days spent almost entirely out of doorsshe wakened one morning knowing what it was to be hungry,and when she sat down to her breakfast she did not glancedisdainfully at her porridge and push it away, but tookup her spoon and began to eat it and went on eating ituntil her bowl was empty.  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was aboutthe deserted garden. But just that moment the robin,who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings,spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and hadother things to do.  "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across theother wall--into the garden where there is no door!""He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there.  he brought it home, too, an' tamed it. It's named Sootbecause it's so black, an' it hops an' flies about withhim everywhere."The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resentMartha's familiar talk. She had even begun to find itinteresting and to be sorry when she stopped or went away.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It wasMrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first theywere married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tendthe flowers themselves. An' none o' th' gardeners wasever let to go in. Him an' her used to go in an'  She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivyswinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet andheard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall,forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast,tilting forward to look at her with his small head onone side.  "There!" said Mary. "I told you so! It is some onecrying--and it isn't a grown-up person."Martha ran and shut the door and turned the key, but beforeshe did it they both heard the sound of a door in some farpassage shutting with a bang, and then everything was quiet,for even the wind ceased "wutherin'" for a few moments.  "If I had a raven or a fox cub I could play with it,"said Mary. "But I have nothing."Martha looked perplexed.  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor..

  "No door!" cried Mary. "There must be." "None as anyone can find, an' none as is any one's business.  Mary was most attracted by the mother and Dickon.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  There's been twelve in our cottage as had th' stomach an'  wailin'. It's got all sorts o' sounds.""But listen," said Mary. "It's in the house--down oneof those long corridors."And at that very moment a door must have been openedsomewhere downstairs; for a great rushing draft blew alongthe passage and the door of the room they sat in was blownopen with a crash, and as they both jumped to their feetthe light was blown out and the crying sound was swept downthe far corridor so that it was to be heard more plainly thanever.  "I knew tha' would. That was just the way with me when Ifirst heard about it.""Why did he hate it?" Mary persisted.  She turned round and looked at Martha.Chapter 5 The Cry In The Corridor  Four good things had happened to her, in fact, since shecame to Misselthwaite Manor. She had felt as if shehad understood a robin and that he had understood her;she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm;she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life;and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one..

  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  "There!" said Mary. "I told you so! It is some onecrying--and it isn't a grown-up person."Martha ran and shut the door and turned the key, but beforeshe did it they both heard the sound of a door in some farpassage shutting with a bang, and then everything was quiet,for even the wind ceased "wutherin'" for a few moments.  "Mind," she said, "Mrs. Medlock said it's not to betalked about. There's lots o' things in this place that'snot to be talked over. That's Mr. Craven's orders.  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  In fact, there was no one to see but the servants,and when their master was away they lived a luxuriouslife below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hungabout with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants'  "No," answered Mary.  But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is. It wasMrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first theywere married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tendthe flowers themselves. An' none o' th' gardeners wasever let to go in. Him an' her used to go in an'  "If I had a raven or a fox cub I could play with it,"said Mary. "But I have nothing."Martha looked perplexed.

  She turned round and looked at Martha.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  "Tha' got on well enough with that this mornin', didn't tha'?"said Martha.  "But why did he hate it so?" she asked, after shehad listened. She intended to know if Martha did.  She walked round and round the gardens and wanderedabout the paths in the park. Sometimes she looked forBen Weatherstaff, but though several times she saw himat work he was too busy to look at her or was too surly.  "It tastes nice today," said Mary, feeling a littlesurprised her self.  there was an old tree with a branch bent like a seaton it. An' she made roses grow over it an' she usedto sit there. But one day when she was sittin' there th'  "Do you hear any one crying?" she said.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.

2016 9:49 am   shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout,but she looked at things. There was nothing else to do.  His troubles are none servants' business, he says.  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  "Mind," she said, "Mrs. Medlock said it's not to betalked about. There's lots o' things in this place that'snot to be talked over. That's Mr. Craven's orders.  Martha suddenly looked confused.  Mrs. Medlock came and looked at her every day or two,but no one inquired what she did or told her what to do.  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.. read more

  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  She turned round and looked at Martha.  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.  I warrant th' foxes shows him where their cubslies an' th' skylarks doesn't hide their nests from him."Mary would have liked to ask some more questions..

  "He has flown over the wall!" Mary cried out, watching him.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  "I like you! I like you!" she cried out, pattering down the walk;and she chirped and tried to whistle, which last she didnot know how to do in the least. But the robin seemedto be quite satisfied and chirped and whistled back at her.  She had never been taught to ask permission to do things,and she knew nothing at all about authority, so she wouldnot have thought it necessary to ask Mrs. Medlock if shemight walk about the house, even if she had seen her.  "Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment..

  She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was aboutthe deserted garden. But just that moment the robin,who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings,spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and hadother things to do.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  She stood at the window for about ten minutes this morningafter Martha had swept up the hearth for the last timeand gone downstairs. She was thinking over the new ideawhich had come to her when she heard of the library.  If he's courtin', he's makin' up to some young madamof a robin that lives among th' old rose-trees there.""Rose-trees," said Mary. "Are there rose-trees?"Ben Weatherstaff took up his spade again and began to dig.  She asked it after she had finished her supper and had satdown on the hearth-rug before the fire.  That reminded Mary of the first time she had seen him.

  shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout,but she looked at things. There was nothing else to do.  She supposed that perhaps this was the English way oftreating children. In India she had always been attendedby her Ayah, who had followed her about and waited on her,hand and foot. She had often been tired of her company.  Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge.  "Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said.  "No," answered Mary.  "It's th' air of th' moor that's givin' thee stomachfor tha' victuals," answered Martha. "It's luckyfor thee that tha's got victuals as well as appetite..

  shouts an' looks at things." Mary did not shout,but she looked at things. There was nothing else to do.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least.  you won't be so yeller.""I don't play," said Mary. "I have nothing to play with.""Nothin' to play with!" exclaimed Martha. "Our childrenplays with sticks and stones. They just runs about an'  She walked round and round the gardens and wanderedabout the paths in the park. Sometimes she looked forBen Weatherstaff, but though several times she saw himat work he was too busy to look at her or was too surly.  "Hasn't tha' got good sense?" she said once, when Maryhad stood waiting for her to put on her gloves for her..

  But as she was listening to the wind she began to listento something else. She did not know what it was,because at first she could scarcely distinguish it fromthe wind itself. It was a curious sound--it seemed almostas if a child were crying somewhere. Sometimes the windsounded rather like a child crying, but presently MistressMary felt quite sure this sound was inside the house,not outside it. It was far away, but it was inside.  He had been swinging on a tree-top then and she had beenstanding in the orchard. Now she was on the other sideof the orchard and standing in the path outside a wall--muchlower down--and there was the same tree inside.  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.  "Oh!" she cried out, "is it you--is it you?" And itdid not seem at all queer to her that she spoke to himas if she were sure that he would understand and answer her.  One place she went to oftener than to any other.  "There was ten year' ago, but there isn't now," he said.. read more

  In fact, there was no one to see but the servants,and when their master was away they lived a luxuriouslife below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hungabout with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants'  "You could bare stand up on the moor if you was out onit tonight."Mary did not know what "wutherin'" meant until she listened,and then she understood. It must mean that hollowshuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round thehouse as if the giant no one could see were buffeting itand beating at the walls and windows to try to break in.  Dickon he doesn't mind th' wet. He goes out just th'  Martha tucked her feet under her and made herselfquite comfortable.  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?" she said..

  spellin'? Tha'st old enough to be learnin' thy book a goodbit now.""I haven't any books," said Mary. "Those I had were leftin India.""That's a pity," said Martha. "If Mrs. Medlock'd let theego into th' library, there's thousands o' books there."Mary did not ask where the library was, because she wassuddenly inspired by a new idea. She made up her mindto go and find it herself. She was not troubled aboutMrs. Medlock. Mrs. Medlock seemed always to be in hercomfortable housekeeper's sitting-room downstairs.  "He has flown over the wall!" Mary cried out, watching him.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.  She walked slowly down this place and stared at the faceswhich also seemed to stare at her. She felt as if theywere wondering what a little girl from India was doingin their house. Some were pictures of children--littlegirls in thick satin frocks which reached to their feetand stood out about them, and boys with puffed sleevesand lace collars and lon  wailin'. It's got all sorts o' sounds.""But listen," said Mary. "It's in the house--down oneof those long corridors."And at that very moment a door must have been openedsomewhere downstairs; for a great rushing draft blew alongthe passage and the door of the room they sat in was blownopen with a crash, and as they both jumped to their feetthe light was blown out and the crying sound was swept downthe far corridor so that it was to be heard more plainly thanever..

  That reminded Mary of the first time she had seen him.  hall where there were four or five abundant meals eatenevery day, and where a great deal of lively romping went onwhen Mrs. Medlock was out of the way.  But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it madeone feel very safe and warm inside a room with a redcoal fire.  "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."She walked round and looked closely at that side of theorchard wall, but she only found what she had foundbefore--that there was no door in it. Then she ranthrough the kitchen-gardens again and out into the walkoutside the long ivy-covered wall, and she walked tothe end of it and looked at it, but there was no door;and then she walked to the other end, looking again,but there was no door.  "Everybody knows him. Dickon's wanderin' about everywhere.  No one's never gone in since, an' he won't let any one talkabout it."Mary did not ask any more questions. She looked atthe red fire and listened to the wind "wutherin'."It seemed to be "wutherin'" louder than ever..

  "It's the garden without a door. He lives in there.  "Can tha'sew?""No.""Can tha' read?""Yes.""Then why doesn't tha, read somethin', or learn a bit o'  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:  A few days after she had talked to Ben Weatherstaff,Mary stopped to notice this and wondered why it was so.  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors.  It was the long walk outside the gardens with the wallsround them. There were bare flower-beds on eitherside of it and against the walls ivy grew thickly.  She did not care very much about the library itself,because she had read very few books; but to hear of it broughtback to her mind the hundred rooms with closed doors.  It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too,though he was not speaking in words. It was as if hesaid:.

  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.  he brought it home, too, an' tamed it. It's named Sootbecause it's so black, an' it hops an' flies about withhim everywhere."The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resentMartha's familiar talk. She had even begun to find itinteresting and to be sorry when she stopped or went away.  Were there a hundred really? Why shouldn't she go and seehow many doors she could count? It would be somethingto do on this morning when she could not go out.  Mrs. Medlock came and looked at her every day or two,but no one inquired what she did or told her what to do..

  nothin' to put in it. You go on playin' you out o'  Mary's meals were served regularly, and Martha waited on her,but no one troubled themselves about her in the least.  "Tha' got on well enough with that this mornin', didn't tha'?"said Martha.  "Do you hear any one crying?" she said.  "It's in the garden no one can go into," she said to herself.  "Art tha' thinkin' about that garden yet?" she said.  "Try to keep from under each other's feet mostly,"Martha answered. "Eh! there does seem a lot of us then.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.  "There!" said Mary. "I told you so! It is some onecrying--and it isn't a grown-up person."Martha ran and shut the door and turned the key, but beforeshe did it they both heard the sound of a door in some farpassage shutting with a bang, and then everything was quiet,for even the wind ceased "wutherin'" for a few moments..

  "Good morning! Isn't the wind nice? Isn't the sun nice? Isn'teverything nice? Let us both chirp and hop and twitter.  doors every day an' you'll get some flesh on your bones an'  She did not know that this was the best thing she couldhave done, and she did not know that, when she began to walkquickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue,she was stirring her slow blood and making herself strongerby fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.  The children seemed to tumble about and amuse themselveslike a litter of rough, good-natured collie puppies.The next day the rain poured down in torrents again,and when Mary looked out of her window the moor was almosthidden by gray mist and cloud. There could be no goingout today.  Come on! Come on!"Mary began to laugh, and as he hopped and took little flightsalong the wall she ran after him. Poor little thin, sallow,ugly Mary--she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.. read more