Page 38 - Secret Garden

There was a gate in the grounds that led to a wood. Today, as she passed it, she heard a strange, low
whistling sound and ventured through the gate.
A boy was sitting with his back against a tree, playing
on a wooden pipe. A squirrel was watching him. A pheasant peeped out from behind a bush.
Nearby, two rabbits sat up, whiffling their noses. They all seemed to be listening.
When the boy saw Mary, he murmured, “Careful now. Dun scare ’em.”
Mary stood stock-still. The boy got up, slower than slow. Squirrel, rabbits and pheasant all scampered off, but not from fear.
“I’m Dickon,” said the boy smiling, “and thou art Miss Mary.”
He had brought the garden tools – a little spade, rake, fork, hoe and trowel – seeds, too.
He smelled of the moor – heather and grass and leaves – and when he looked at her,
she quite forgot to be shy.