The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett Chapter 19 It Has Come Of course Dr.
Craven had been sent for the morning after Colin had had his tantrum.
He was always sent for at once when such a thing occurred,
And he always found,
When he arrived,
A white shaken boy lying on his bed,
Sulky and still so hysterical that he was ready to break into fresh sobbing at the least word.
In fact,
Dr.
Craven dreaded and detested the difficulties of these visits.
On this occasion he was away from Miss Awake Manor until afternoon.
How is he?
He asked Miss Medlock rather irritably when he arrived.
He will break a blood vessel in one of those fits some day.
The boy is half insane with hysteria and self-indulgence.
Well sir,
Answered Miss Medlock,
You'll scarcely believe your eyes when you see him.
That plain sour-faced child that's almost as bad as himself has just bewitched him.
How she's done it there's no telling.
The Lord knows she's nothing to look at,
And you scarcely ever hear her speak,
But when she did,
What none of us dared to do.
She just flew at him like a little cat last night and stamped her feet and ordered him to stop screaming,
And somehow she startled him so that he actually did stop.
And this afternoon,
Well,
Just come up and see,
Sir,
It's past crediting.
The scene which Dr.
Craven beheld when he entered his patient's room was indeed rather astonishing to him.
As Miss Medlock opened the door,
He heard laughing and chattering.
Colin was on his sofa in his dressing gown,
And he was sitting up quite straight looking at a picture in one of the garden books and talking to the plain child who at that moment could scarcely be called plain at all because her face was so glowing with enjoyment.
Those long spires of blue ones will have a lot of those,
Colin was announcing.
They're called del-fine-iums.
Dickens says they're larksburs made big and grand,
Cried Mistress Mary.
There are clumps there already.
Then they saw Dr.
Craven and stopped.
Mary became quite still,
And Colin looked fretful.
I'm sorry to hear you were ill last night,
My boy,
Dr.
Craven said a trifle nervously.
He was rather a nervous man.
I'm better now,
Much better,
Colin answered,
Rather like a Raja.
I'm going in and out of my chair in a day or two if it's fine.
I want some fresh air.
Dr.
Craven sat down by him and felt his pulse and looked at him curiously.
It must be a very fine day,
He said,
And you must be very careful not to tire yourself.
Fresh air won't tire me,
Said the young Raja,
As there had been occasions when the same young gentleman had shrieked aloud with rage and had insisted that fresh air would give him cold and kill him.
It is not to be wondered at that his doctor felt somewhat startled.
I thought you did not like fresh air,
He said.
I don't when I'm by myself,
Replied the Raja,
But my cousin is going out with me.
And the nurse,
Of course,
Suggested Dr.
Craven.
No,
I will not have the nurse,
So magnificently that Mary could not help remembering how the young native prince had looked with his diamonds and emeralds and pearls stuck all over him and the great rubies on the small dark hand he had waved to command his servants to approach with salams and receive his orders.
My cousin knows how to take care of me.
I am always better when she is with me.
She made me better last night,
And a very strong boy I know will push my carriage.
Dr.
Craven felt rather alarmed.
If this tiresome,
Hysterical boy should chance to get well,
He himself would lose all chance of inheriting missile weight.
But he was not an unscrupulous man,
Though he was a weak one,
And he did not intend to let him run him into actual danger.
He must be a strong boy and a steady boy,
He said,
And I must know something about him.
Who is he?
What is his name?
It's Dickon,
Mary spoke up suddenly.
She felt somehow that everybody who knew the more must know Dickon,
And she was right,
Too.
She saw that in a moment Dr.
Craven's serious face relaxed into a relieved smile.
Oh,
Dickon,
He said.
If it is Dickon,
You will be safe enough.
He's as strong as a morepony as Dickon.
And he's trusty,
Said Mary.
He's the trustiest lad in Yorkshire.
She had been talking Yorkshire to Colin,
And she forgot herself.
Did Dickon teach you that?
Asked Dr.
Craven,
Laughing outright.
I'm learning it as if it was French,
Said Mary,
Rather coldly.
It's like a native dialect in India.
Very clever people try to learn them.
I like it,
And so does Colin.
Well,
Well,
He said.
If it amuses you,
Perhaps it won't do you any harm.
Did you take your bromide last night,
Colin?
No,
Colin answered.
I wouldn't take it at first,
And after Mary made me quiet she talked me to sleep,
In a low voice,
About the spring creeping into the garden.
That sounds soothing,
Said Dr.
Craven,
More perplexed than ever,
And glancing sideways at Mistress Mary sitting on her stool and looking down silently at the carpet.
You are evidently better,
But you must remember.
I don't want to remember,
Interrupted the Raja,
Appearing again.
When I lie by myself and remember,
I begin to have pains everywhere,
And I think of things that make me begin to scream because I hate them so.
If there was a doctor anywhere who could make you forget you were ill instead of remembering it,
I would have brought him here.
And he waved a thin hand which ought really to have been covered with royal rings made of rubies.
It is because my cousin makes me forget that she makes me better.
Dr.
Craven had never made such a short stay after a tantrum.
Usually he was obliged to remain a very long time and do a great many things.
This afternoon he did not give any medicine or leave any new orders,
And he was spared any disagreeable scenes.
When he went downstairs he looked very thoughtful,
And when he talked to Miss Medlock in the library she felt that he was a much puzzled man.
Well sir,
She ventured,
Could you have believed it?
It is certainly a new state of affairs,
Said the doctor,
And there's no denying it is better than the old one.
I believe Susan Sowerby's right,
I do that,
Said Miss Medlock.
I stopped in her cottage on my way to Thwait yesterday and had a bit of talk with her.
And she says to me,
Well Sarah Anne,
She mayn't be a good child,
And she mayn't be a pretty one,
But she's a child,
And children need children.
We went to school together,
Susan Sowerby and me.
She's the best sick nurse I know,
Said Dr.
Craven.
When I find her in a cottage I know the chances are that I shall save my patient.
Miss Medlock smiled.
She was fond of Susan Sowerby.
She's got away with her,
Has Susan.
She went on quite volvily.
I've been thinking all morning of one thing she said yesterday.
She says,
Once when I was giving the children a bit of preach after they'd been fighting,
I says to them all,
When I was at school,
My geography told all the world was shaped like an orange,
And I found out before I was ten that the whole orange doesn't belong to nobody.
No one owns more than his bit of a quarter,
And there's times it seems like there's not enough quarters to go around.
But don't you,
None of you,
Think as you own the whole orange,
Or you'll find out you're mistaken and you won't find it out without hard knocks.
What children learn from children,
She said,
Is that there's no sense in grabbing at the whole orange,
Peel and all.
If you do,
You'll likely not get even the pips,
And that's too bitter to eat.
She's a shrewd woman,
Said Dr.
Craven,
Putting on his coat.
Well,
She's got a way of saying things,
Ended Miss Medlock,
Much pleased.
Sometimes I've said to her,
Hey,
Susan,
If you was a different woman and didn't talk such broad Yorkshire,
I've seen the times when I should have said you was clever.
That night Colin slept without once awakening,
And when he opened his eyes in the morning he lay still and smiled without knowing it.
Smiled because he felt so curiously comfortable.
It was actually nice to be awake,
And he turned over and stretched his limbs luxuriously.
He felt as if tight strings which had held him had loosened themselves and let him go.
He did not know that Dr.
Craven would have said that his nerves had relaxed and rested themselves.
Instead of lying and staring at the wall and wishing he had not awakened,
His mind was full of the plans he and Mary had made yesterday,
Of pictures of the garden and of Dickon and his wild creatures.
It was so nice to have things to think about,
And he had not been awake more than ten minutes when he heard feet running along the corridor,
And Mary was at the door.
The next minute she was in the room and had run across to his bed,
Bringing with her a waft of fresh air,
Full of the scent of the morning.
You've been out,
You've been out,
There's that nice smell of leaves,
He cried.
She had been running and her hair was loose and blown and she was bright with the air and pink cheeked,
Though he could not see it.
It's so beautiful,
She said,
A little breathless with her speed.
You never saw anything so beautiful.
It has come.
I thought it had come the other morning,
But it was only coming.
It is here now.
It has come.
The spring.
Dickon says so.
Has it?
And though he really knew nothing about it,
He felt his heart beat.
He actually sat up in bed.
Open the window,
He added,
Laughing half with joyful excitement and half at his own fancy.
Perhaps we may hear golden trumpets.
And though he laughed,
Mary was at the window in a moment,
And in a moment more it was open,
She cried,
And freshness and softness and scents and bird songs were pouring through.
That's fresh air,
She said.
Lie on your back and draw in long breaths of it.
That's what Dickon does when he's lying on the moor.
He says he feels it in his veins and it makes him strong and he feels as if he could live forever and ever.
Breathe it and breathe it.
She was only repeating what Dickon had told her,
But she caught Collins fancy.
Forever and ever.
Does it make him feel like that?
He said,
And he did as he was told,
Drawing in long deep breaths over and over again until he felt that something quite new and delightful was happening to him.
Mary was at his bedside again.
Things are crowding up out of the earth,
She ran on in a hurry,
And there are flowers uncurling and buds on everything,
And the green veil has covered nearly all the gray,
And the birds are in such a hurry about their nests,
For fear they may be too late.
That some of them are even fighting for places in the secret garden.
And the rose bushes look as wick as wick can be,
And there are primroses in the lanes and woods and the seeds we planted are up,
And Dickon has brought the fox and the crow and the squirrels and a newborn lamb.
And then she paused for breath.
The newborn lamb Dickon had found three days before lying in its dead mother among the gorse bushes on the moor.
It was not the first motherless lamb he had found,
And he knew what to do with it.
He had taken it to the cottage,
Wrapped in his jacket,
And he had let it lie near the fire and had fed it with warm milk.
It was a soft thing with a darling,
Silly baby face and legs rather long for its body.
Dickon had carried it over the moor in his arms,
And its feeding bottle was in his pocket with the squirrel.
And when Mary had sat under a tree with its limp warmness huddled on her lap,
She had felt as if she were too full of strange joy to even speak.
A lamb,
A lamb,
A living lamb who lie in your lap like a baby.
She was describing it with great joy,
And Colin was listening and drawing in long breaths of air when the nurse entered.
She started a little at the sight of the open window.
She had sat stifling in the room many a warm day because her patient was sure that the open windows gave people colds.
Are you sure you're not chilly,
Master Colin?
She inquired.
No,
Was the answer.
I am breathing long breaths of fresh air.
It makes you strong.
I am going to get up to the sofa for breakfast.
My cousin will have breakfast with me.
The nurse went away,
Concealing a smile,
To give the order for two breakfasts.
She found the servant's hall a more amusing place in the invalid's chamber,
And just now everybody wanted to hear the news from upstairs.
There was a great deal of joking about the unpopular young recluse,
Who,
As the cook said,
Had found his master and good for him.
The servant's hall had been very tired of the tantrums,
And the butler,
Who was a man with a family,
Had more than once expressed his opinion that the invalid would be all the better for a good hiding.
When Colin was on his sofa,
And the breakfast for two was put upon the table,
He made an announcement to the nurse in his most Rajah-like manner.
A boy and a fox and a crow and two squirrels and a newborn lamb are coming to see me this morning.
I want them brought upstairs as soon as they come,
He said.
You are not to begin playing with the animals in the service hall and keep them there.
I want them here.
The nurse gave a slight gasp and tried to conceal it with a cough.
Yes sir,
She answered.
I'll tell you what you can do,
Added Colin,
Waving his hand.
You can tell Martha to bring them here.
The boy is Martha's brother,
His name is Dickon,
And he is an animal charmer.
I hope the animals won't bite,
Master Colin,
Said the nurse.
I told you he was a charmer,
Said Colin,
Austerely.
Charmers animals never bite.
There are snake charmers in India,
Said Mary,
And they can put their snake's heads in their mouths.
Goodness,
Shuddered the nurse.
They ate their breakfast,
With the morning air pouring in upon them.
Colin's breakfast was a very good one,
And Mary watched him with serious interest.
You will begin to get fatter,
Just like I did,
She said.
I never wanted my breakfast when I was in India,
And now I always want it.
I wanted mine this morning,
Said Colin.
Perhaps it was the fresh air.
When do you think Colin will come?
He was not long in coming.
In about ten minutes,
Mary held up her hand.
Listen,
She said,
Did you hear a caw?
Colin listened and heard it.
The oddest sound in the world to hear inside a house.
A horse caw caw.
Yes,
He answered.
That's soot,
Said Mary.
Listen again.
Do you hear a little bleat?
A tiny one?
Oh,
Yes,
Cried Colin,
Quite flushing.
That's the newborn lamb,
Said Mary.
He's coming.
Colin's moorland boots were thick and clumsy,
And though he tried to walk quietly,
They made a clumping sound as he walked through the long corridors.
Mary and Colin heard him marching,
Marching,
Until he passed through the tapestry door on the soft carpet of Colin's own passage.
If you please,
Sir,
Announced Martha,
Opening the door.
If you please,
Sir,
Here's Dickon and his creatures.
Dickon came in smiling his nicest wide smile.
The newborn lamb went in his arms,
And the little red fox trotted by his side.
Nut sat on his left shoulder and soot on his right,
And Shell's head and paws peeped out of his coat pocket.
Dickon slowly sat up and stared and stared,
As he had stared when he first saw Mary.
But this was a stare of wonder and delight.
The truth was that in spite of all,
He had heard he had not in his least understood what this boy would be like,
And that his fox and his crow and his squirrels and his lamb were so near to him and his friendliness that they seemed almost to be part of himself.
Colin had never talked to a boy in his life,
And he was so overwhelmed by his own pleasure and curiosity that he did not even think of speaking.
But Dickon did not feel the least shy or awkward.
He had not felt embarrassed because the crow had not known his language and had only stared and had not spoken to him the first time they met.
Creatures were always like that until they found out about you.
He walked over to Colin's sofa and put the newborn lamb quietly on his lap,
And immediately the little creature turned the warm velvet dressing gown and began to nuzzle and nuzzle into its folds and butt its tight-curled head with soft impatience against his side.
Of course no boy could have helped speaking then.
"'What is it doing?
' cried Colin.
"'What does it want?
' "'It wants its mother,
' said Dickon,
Smiling more and more.
"'I brought it to thee a bit hungry,
Because I knowed thou liked to feed it.
' He knelt down by the sofa and took a feeding bottle from his pocket.
"'Come on,
Little one,
' he said,
Turning the small wooly white head with a gentle brown hand.
"'This is what the Zafter.
They'll get more out of this than the will out of the silk velvet coats.
They're there now.
' And he pushed the rubber tip of the bottle into the nuzzling mouth,
And the lamb began to suck it with ravenous ecstasy.
After that there was no wondering what to say.
By the time the lamb fell asleep,
Questions poured forth,
And Dickon answered them all.
He told them how he had found the lamb just as the sun was rising three mornings ago.
He had been standing on the moor listening to a skylark,
And watching him swing higher and higher into the sky,
Until he was only a speck in the heights of blue.
I'd almost lost him but for his song,
And I was wondering how a chap could hear it when it seemed as if he'd get out of the world in the minute.
And just then I heard something else far off among the gorse bushes.
It was a weak bleating,
And I knew it was a new lamb,
And it was hungry,
And I know I wouldn't be hungry,
But it must have lost its mother.
So I sat searching.
Ay,
I did have a look for it.
I went in and out among the gorse bushes,
And round and round as I always seemed to take the wrong turn.
But at last I see'd a bit of white by a rock on the top of the moor,
And I climbed up and found the little,
Unhalf-dead,
With cold and clemen.
Wally talked,
Soot flew solemnly in and out of the open window,
And cawed remarkably about the scenery,
While Nut and Shell made excursions into the big trees outside,
And ran up and down trucks and explored branches.
Captain curled up near Dickon,
Who sat on the hearth rug from preference.
They looked at the pictures in the gardening books,
And Dickon knew all the flowers by their country names,
And knew exactly which ones were already growing in the secret garden.
I couldn't say that their name,
He said,
Pointing to one under which was written.
But us calls that a columbi,
And that there it's a snapdragon,
And they both grow wild in hedges.
But these in garden ones,
And they're bigger and grander.
There's some big clumps of columbine in the garden.
They'll look like a bed of blue and white butterflies fluttering when they're out.
I'm going to see them,
Cried Colin,
I'm going to see them.
Ay,
That the mons had married quite seriously,
And the mons had lose no time about it.
Chapter 20.
I shall live forever and ever and ever.
But they were obliged to wait more than a week,
Because first there came some very windy days,
And then Colin was threatened with a cold,
Which two things happening one after the other would no doubt have thrown him into a rage,
But that there was so much careful and mysterious planning to do,
And almost every day Dickon came in,
If only for a few minutes,
To talk about what was happening on the moor,
And in the lanes and hedges,
And on the borders of streams.
The things he had to tell about otters and badgers,
And water rats,
Houses,
Not to mention bird's nests,
And field mice and their burrows,
Were enough to make you almost tremble with excitement when you heard all the intimate details from an animal charmer,
And realized with what thrilling eagerness and anxiety the whole busy underworld was working.
They're same as us,
Said Dickon,
Only they have to build their homes every year,
And it keeps them so busy they fare scuffle to get them done.
The most absorbing thing,
However,
Was the preparations to be made before Colin could be transported with sufficient secrecy to the garden.
No one must see the chair carriage and Dickon and Mary after they turned a certain corner of the shrubbery and entered upon the walk outside the ivied walls.
As each day passed,
Colin had become more and more fixed in his feeling that the mystery surrounding the garden was one of its greatest charms.
Nothing must spoil that.
No one must ever suspect that they had a secret.
People must think that he was simply going out with Mary and Dickon because he liked them and did not object to their looking at him.
They had long and quite delightful talks about their route.
They would go up this path and down that one,
And cross the other,
And go round among the fountain flower beds as if they were looking at the bedding out plants the head gardener Mr.
Roach had been having arranged.
That would seem such a rational thing to do that no one would think it was all mysterious.
They would turn into the shrubbery walks and lose themselves until they came to the long walls.
It was almost as serious and elaborately thought out as the plans of March made by great generals in times of war.
Rumors of the new and curious things which were occurring in the invalid's apartments had of course filtered through the servants' hall,
Into the stable yards,
And out among the gardeners.
But notwithstanding this,
Mr.
Roach was startled one day when he received orders from Master Collins' room to the effect that he must report himself in the apartment no outsider had ever seen,
As the invalid himself desired to speak to him.
Well,
Well,
He said to himself as he hurriedly changed his coat,
What's to do now,
His royal highness that wasn't to be looked at calling upon a man he's never set eyes on?
Mr.
Roach was not without curiosity.
He had never caught even a glimpse of the boy and had heard a dozen exaggerated stories about his uncanny looks and ways and his insane tempers.
The thing he had heard oftenest was that he might die at any moment,
And there had been numerous fanciful descriptions of a humpback and helpless limbs given by people who had never seen him.
Things are changing in this house,
Mr.
Roach,
Said Miss Medlock,
As she led him to the back staircase to the corridor,
Unto which opened the hitherto mysterious chamber.
Let's hope they're changing for the better,
Miss Medlock,
He answered.
They couldn't well change for the worse,
She continued.
And queer as it all is,
Their—them as finds their duties made a lot easier to stand up under.
Don't you be surprised,
Mr.
Roach,
If you find yourself in the middle of a menagerie with Martha Sowerby's Dickon more at home than you or me could ever be.
There really was a sort of magic about Dickon,
As Mary always privately believed.
When Mr.
Roach heard his name,
He smiled quite leniently.
He'd be at home in Buckingham Palace or at the bottom of a coal mine,
He said.
And yet it's not impudence either.
He's just fine,
Is the lad.
It was perhaps well he had been prepared,
Or he might have been startled.
When the bedroom door was open,
A large crow,
Which seemed quite at home perched on the high back of the carven chair,
Announced the entrance of a visitor by saying,
Caw-caw,
Quite loudly.
In spite of Mr.
Medlock's warning,
Mr.
Roach only just escaped being sufficiently undignified to jump backwards.
The young Raja was neither in bed nor on a sofa.
He was sitting in an armchair,
And a young lamb was standing by him,
Shaking its tail in feeding-lam fashion,
As Dickon knelt,
Giving it milk from a bottle.
A squirrel was perched on Dickon's bent back,
Attentively nibbling a nut.
The little girl from India was sitting on a big footstool,
Looking on.
Here is Mr.
Roach,
Master Colin,
Said Miss Medlock.
The young Raja turned and looked his servitor over.
At least that was what the head gardener felt happened.
Oh,
You are Roach,
Are you?
He said.
I sent for you to give you some very important orders.
Very good,
Sir,
Answered Roach,
Wondering if he was to receive instructions to fell all the oaks in the park,
Or to transform the orchards into water gardens.
I am going out in my chair this afternoon,
Said Colin.
If the fresh air agrees with me,
I may go out every day.
When I go,
None of the gardeners are to be anywhere near the long walk by the garden walls.
No one is to be there.
I shall go out about two o'clock,
And everyone must keep away until I send word that they may go back to their work.
Very good,
Sir,
Replied Mr.
Roach,
Much relieved to hear that the oaks would remain and the orchards were safe.
Mary said Colin,
Turning to her,
What is that thing you say in India when you have finished talking and you want people to go?
You say,
You have my permission to go,
Answered Mary.
The Raja waved his hand.
You have my permission to go,
Roach,
He said,
But remember,
This is very important.
Kaka,
Remarked the crow,
Hoarsely,
But not impolitely.
Very good,
Sir,
Thank you,
Sir,
Said Mr.
Roach,
And Miss Medlock took him out of the room.
Outside in the corridor,
Being a rather good-natured man,
He smiled until he almost laughed.
My word,
He said,
He's got a fine lordly way with him,
Hasn't he?
You'd think he was the whole royal family rolled into one,
Prince Consort and all.
Eh,
Protested Miss Medlock,
We've had to let him trample all over every one of us ever since he had feet,
And he thinks that's what folks was born for.
Perhaps he'll grow out of it if he lives,
Suggested Mr.
Roach.
Well,
There's one thing pretty sure,
Said Miss Medlock.
If he does live and that Indian child stays here,
I'll warrant she teaches him that the whole orange does not belong to him,
As Susan Sowerby says,
And he'll be likely to find out the size of his own quarter.
Inside the room,
Colin was leaning back on this cushion.
It's all safe now,
He said,
And this afternoon I shall see it.
This afternoon I shall see it and be in it.
Dickon went back to the garden with his creatures,
And Mary stayed with Colin.
She did not think he looked tired,
But he was quite,
Very quiet before lunch came,
And he was quiet while they were eating it.
She wondered why and asked him about it.
What big eyes you've got,
Colin,
She said.
When you are thinking,
They get as big as saucers.
What are you thinking about now?
I can't help thinking about what it will look like,
He answered.
The garden,
Asked Mary.
The springtime,
He said.
I was thinking that I'll never really see it,
And I've never seen it before.
I scarcely ever went out,
And when I did go out I never looked.
I didn't even think about it.
I never saw it in India because there wasn't any,
Said Mary.
He went in and morbid as his life had been.
Colin had more imagination than she had,
And at least he spent a good deal of time looking at wonderful books and pictures.
That morning,
When you ran in and said,
It's come,
It's come,
You made me feel quite queer,
It sounded as if things were coming with a great procession and big bursts and wafts of music.
I have a picture like it in one of my books.
Crowds of lovely people and children with garlands and branches with blossoms on them.
Everyone laughing and dancing and crowding and playing on pipes.
That was why I said,
Perhaps we shall hear golden trumpets and told you how to throw open the window.
How funny,
Said Mary.
That's really just what it feels like.
And if all the flowers and leaves and green things and birds and wild creatures danced past at once,
What a crowd it would be.
I'm sure they'd dance and sing and flute,
And that would be the wafts of music.
They both laughed,
But it was not because the idea was laughable,
But because they liked it,
So.
A little later,
The nurse made Colin ready.
She noticed that instead of lying like a log while his clothes were put on,
He sat up and made some efforts to help himself.
And he talked and laughed with Mary all the time.
This is one of his good days,
Sir,
She said to Dr.
Craven,
Who dropped in to inspect him.
He's in such good spirits that it makes him stronger.
I'll call in again later in the afternoon after he has come in,
Said Dr.
Craven.
I must see how the going out agrees with him.
I wish,
He said in a very low voice,
That he would let you go with him.
I'd rather give up the case this moment,
Sir,
Than even stay here while it's suggested,
Answered the nurse,
With sudden firmness.
I hadn't really decided to suggest it,
Said the doctor,
With his slight nervousness.
We'll try the experiment.
Dickin's a lad I trust with a newborn child.
The strongest footman in the house carried Colin downstairs and put him in his wheelchair,
Near which Dickin waited outside.
After the manservant had arranged his rugs and cushions,
The raja waved his hand to him and to the nurse.
You have my permission to go,
He said,
And they both disappeared quickly,
And it must be confessed,
Giggled,
When they were safely inside the house.
Dickin began to push the wheelchair slowly and steadily.
Mistress Mary walked beside it,
And Colin leaned back and lifted his face to the sky.
The arc of it looked very high,
And the small snowy clouds seemed like white birds floating on outspread wings below its crystal blueness.
The wind swept,
In big soft breaths,
Down the moor,
And was strained with a wild,
Clear-scented sweetness.
Colin kept lifting his thin chest to draw it in,
And his big eyes looked as if they were listening,
Listening instead of his ears.
There were so many sounds of singing and humming and calling out.
He said,
What is that scent the puffs of wind bring?
It's gorse on the moor that's opening out,
Answered Dickin.
A,
The bees there at work today.
Not a human creature was to be caught sight in the past they took.
In fact,
Every gardener or gardener's lad had been witched away,
But they wound in and out among the shrubbery and out and round the flower beds,
Following their carefully planned route for the mere mysterious pleasure of it.
But when at long last they turned to the walk by the ivied walls,
The exited sense of the approaching thrill made them,
For some curious reason they could not have explained,
They began to speak in whispers.
This is it,
Breathed Mary.
This is where I used to walk up and down and wander and wonder.
Is it?
Cried Colin,
And his eyes began to search the ivy with eager curiousness.
But I can see nothing,
He whispered.
There is no door.
That's what I thought,
Said Mary.
And there was a lovely breathless silence,
And the chair wheeled on.
That is the garden where Ben Weatherstaff works,
Said Mary.
Is it?
Said Colin.
A few more yards,
And Mary whispered again.
This is where the robin flew over the wall,
She said.
Is it?
Cried Colin.
I wish he'd come again.
And that,
Said Mary with solemn delight,
Pointing under a big lilac bush,
Is where he perched on the little heap of earth and showed me the key.
Then Colin sat up.
Where?
Where?
There?
He cried,
And his eyes were as big as the wolf's in Red Riding Hood,
When Red Riding Hood felt called upon to remark on them.
Dickens stood still,
And the wheelchair stopped.
And this,
Said Mary,
Stepping on the bed close to the ivy,
Is where I went to talk to him when he chirped at me from the top of the wall.
And this is the ivy the wind blew back.
And she took hold of the hanging green curtain.
Oh,
Is it?
Is it?
Gasped Colin.
And here is the handle,
And here is the door.
Dickens push him in,
Push him in quickly.
And Dickens did it with one strong,
Steady,
Splendid push.
But Colin had actually dropped back against his cushions,
Even though he gasped with delight,
And he had covered his eyes with his hands,
And held them there shutting out everything until they were inside,
And the chair stopped as if by magic and the door was closed.
Not till then did he take them away,
And look round and round and round as Dickens and Mary had done,
And over walls and earth and trees and swinging sprays and tendrils the fair green veil of tender little leaves had crept,
And in the grass under the trees and the gray urns and the alcoves,
And here and there and everywhere were touches or splashes of gold and purple and white.
And the trees were showing pink and snow above his head,
And there were fluttering of wings and faint sweet pipes and humming and scents and scents.
And the sun fell warm upon his face like a hand with a lovely touch,
And in wonder Mary and Dickens stood and stared at him.
He looked so strange and different because a pink glow of color had actually crept all over him,
Ivory face and neck and hands and all.
I shall get well,
I shall get well,
He cried out.
Mary,
Dickens,
I shall get well,
And I shall live forever and ever and ever.
And that is the end of our sleep story this evening.
Until next time,
Sweet dreams.
