Page 37 - Secret Garden

the fresh air would do Mary Lennox good.
Mary called it the Secret Garden. She liked the feeling that when she was
inside its old walls no one knew where she was. She no longer hated the wind – and she could skip to one hundred! There were living things stirring under her feet and every day she found more and more of the pale green shoots. How had this place looked when a thousand lovely things were
in bloom?
Old Ben Weatherstaff did not seem so grumpy recently. Mary spoke not a word about her marvellous secret, but there were things she needed to know.
“Do you like roses?” she asked.
Ben scowled. “I do. Was gardener to a young
lady as had a right way with roses.” “Where is she now?”
“Heaven,” he snapped, and heeled his
spade deep into the soil.
“So, did her roses die too? Do roses
die when no one looks after them?” Ben seemed suddenly angry for
no reason, and told her to go away and play. But though Mary was puzzled, she was not scared.
She liked Ben, in spite of
his crossness.
Yes. She truly did like him!