Page 42 - Secret Garden

But there was news waiting back at the house. Mr Craven had come home and wanted to see Mary at once.
What? Meet the sad man who had taken her in but never spoken to her?
Martha had said he had a twisted spine, so Mary pictured someone with all his arms and legs tied into a great, big, unpickable knot. Mary trembled as she knocked on the door.
Mr Craven was not tied in a knot. His face was handsome, but sad and fretful. His black eyes had a far-away look.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr Craven.”
“You are very thin.”
“I’m getting stronger quick as I can,” she promised.
“I forgot about you. Sorry. I meant to find a governess to teach you, but forgot.”
“Please – please,” Mary stammered, “I don’t want a
governess yet! I’m still learning to be me!”
“So what do you want?” said Mr Craven, as anxious as if . . . as if she was some
great knot he had to unpick. “Please, sir, I want to
play out of doors and have a little patch of ground
where I can grow things!”