Sleep Story: The Secret Garden Chapter 15

Enjoy this sleep story to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read Chapter 15 of the timeless classic, The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. This chapter focuses on Mary getting back to the garden and watching spring bring the first signs of life into the garden once more. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax or find adventure into a great night's sleep.

Transcript

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett Chapter 15 Nest Building After another week of rain,

The high arc of blue sky appeared again,

And the sun which poured down was quite hot.

Though there had been no chance to see either the Secret Garden or Dickon,

Mistress Mary had enjoyed herself very much.

The week had not seemed long.

She had spent hours of every day with Colin in his room,

Talking about the Rajahs or Gardens or Dickon and the cottage on the moor.

They had looked at the splendid books and pictures,

And sometimes Mary had read things to Colin,

And sometimes he had read a little to her.

When he was amused and interested,

She thought he scarcely looked like an invalid at all,

Except that his face was so colorless and he was always on the sofa.

"'You are a sly young one to listen and get out of your bed to go following things up like you did that night,

' Miss Medlock said once.

"'But there's no saying it's not been a sort of blessing to the lot of us.

He's not had a tantrum or a whining fit since you made friends.

' The nurse was just going to give up the case because she was so sick of him,

But she says she doesn't mind staying now.

You've gone on duty with her.

' "'Laughing a little,

' said the nurse.

In her talks with Colin,

Mary had tried to be very cautious about the secret garden.

There were certain things she wanted to find out from him,

But she felt that she must find them out without asking him direct questions.

In the first place,

As she began to like to be with him,

She wanted to discover whether he was the kind of boy you could tell a secret to.

He was not in the least,

Like Dickon,

But he was evidently so pleased with the idea of a garden that no one knew anything about that she thought perhaps he could be trusted.

But she had not known him long enough to be sure.

The second thing she wanted to find out was this.

If he could be trusted,

If he really could,

Wouldn't it be possible to take him to the garden without having anyone find it out?

The grand doctor had said that he must have fresh air,

And Colin had said that he would not mind fresh air in a secret garden.

Perhaps if he had a great deal of fresh air and knew Dickon and the robin and saw things growing he might not think so much about dying.

Mary had seen herself in the glass sometimes lately when she had realized that she looked quite different.

She looked quite like a different creature from the child she had seen when she arrived from India.

This child looked nicer.

Even Martha had seen a change in her.

The air from the moor has done the good already,

She had said.

Thart not nigh so yeller,

And thart not nigh so scrawny.

Even the hair doesn't slap down on the head so fast.

It's got some life in it,

So as it sticks out a bit.

It's like me,

Said Mary.

It's growing stronger and fatter.

I'm sure there's more of it.

It looks it for sure,

Said Martha,

Ruffling it up a little around her face.

Thart not ugly when it's that way,

And there's a bit of red in the cheeks.

If gardens and fresh air had been good for her,

Perhaps they would be good for Colin.

But then if he hated people to look at him,

Perhaps he would not like to see Dickon.

Why does it make you angry when you're looked at?

She inquired one day.

I always hated it,

He answered,

Even when I was little.

Then when they took me to the seaside and I used to lie in my carriage,

Everybody used to stare,

And ladies would stop and talk to my nurse,

And then they would begin to whisper,

And I knew then they were saying I shouldn't live to grow up.

And sometimes the ladies would pat my cheeks and say,

Poor child.

Once when a lady did that,

I screamed out loud and bit her hand.

She was so frightened she ran away.

She thought you had gone mad like a dog,

Said Mary.

Not at all admiringly.

I don't care what she thought,

Said Colin,

Frowning.

I wonder why you didn't scream and bite me when I came into your room,

Said Mary.

Then she began to smile slowly.

I thought you were a ghost or a dream,

He said.

You can't bite a ghost or a dream,

And if you scream,

They don't care.

Would you hate it if,

If a boy looked at you?

Mary asked uncertainly.

He lay back on the cushion and paused thoughtfully.

There's one boy,

He said quite slowly,

As if he were thinking over every word.

There's one boy I believe I shouldn't mind.

It's that boy who knows where the foxes live,

Dickon.

I'm sure you wouldn't mind him,

Said Mary.

The birds don't,

And other animals,

He said,

Still thinking it over.

Perhaps that's why I shouldn't.

He's a sort of animal charmer,

And I am a boy animal.

Then he laughed,

And she laughed too.

In fact,

It ended in their both laughing a great deal and finding the idea of a boy animal hiding in his hole very funny indeed.

What Mary felt afterward was that she need not fear about Dickon.

On that first morning when the sky was blue again,

Mary wakened very early.

The sun was pouring in,

Slanting rays through the blinds,

And there was something so joyous in the sight of it that she jumped out of bed and ran to the window.

She drew up the blinds and opened the window itself,

And a great waft of fresh scented air blew in upon her.

The moor was blue,

And the whole world looked as if something magic had happened to it.

There were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere,

As if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert.

Mary put her hand out of the window and held it in the sun.

It's warm,

Warm,

She said,

It will make the green points push up and up,

And it will make the bulbs and roots work and struggle with all their might under the earth.

She kneeled down and leaned out the window as far as she could,

Breathing big breaths and sniffing the air until she laughed because she remembered what Dickon's mother had said about the end of his nose quivering like a rabbit's.

It must be very early,

She said,

The little clouds are all pink and I've never seen the sky look like this.

No one is up,

I don't even hear the stable boys.

A sudden thought made her scramble to her feet.

I can't wait,

I am going to see the garden.

She had learned to dress herself by this time and she put on her clothes in five minutes.

She knew a small side door which she could unbolt herself and she flew downstairs in her stocking feet and put on her shoes in the hall.

She unchained and unbolted and unlocked and when the door was open she sprang across the step with one bound and there she was standing on the grass,

Which seemed to have turned green and with the sun pouring down on her and the warm sweet wafts about her and the fluting and twittering and singing coming from every bush and tree.

She clasped her hands for pure joy and looked up in the sky and it was so blue and pink and pearly and white and flooded with springtime light that she felt as if she must flute and sing aloud herself and knew that thrushes and robins and skylarks could not possibly help it.

She ran around the shrubs and paths towards the secret garden.

It is all different already,

She said.

The grass is greener and things are sticking up everywhere and things are uncurling and green buds of leaves are showing.

This afternoon I am sure Dickon will come.

The long warm rain had done strange things to the herbaceous beds when bordered the walk by the lower wall.

There were things sprouting and pushing out from the roots of clumps of plants and there were actually here and there glimpses of royal purple and yellow unfurling among the stems of the crocuses.

Six months before Mistress Mary would not have seen the world was waking up but now she missed nothing.

When she had reached the place where the door hid itself under the ivy she was startled by a curious loud sound.

It was the caw,

Caw of a crow,

And it came from the top of the wall and when she looked up there sat a big glossy plumage blue-black bird looking down at her very wisely indeed.

She had never seen a crow so close before and he made her a little nervous but the next moment he spread his wings and flapped away across the garden.

She hoped he was not going to stay inside and she pushed the door open wondering if he would.

When she got fairly into the garden she saw that he probably did intend to stay because he had alighted on a dwarf apple tree and under the apple tree was lying a little reddish animal with a bushy tail and both of them were watching the stooping body and the rust redhead of Dickon who was kneeling on the grass working hard.

Mary flew across the grass to him.

Oh Dickon,

Dickon she cried out.

How could you get here so early?

How could you?

The sun only just got up.

He got up himself laughing and glowing and tussled.

His eyes like a bit of the sky.

Ay he said,

I was up long before him.

How could I have stayed a bed?

The world's all fair,

Begun again this morning it has,

And it's working and humming and scratching and piping and nest building and breathing out scents till you've got to be out on it instead of lying on your back.

When the sun did jump up the moor went mad for joy and I was in the midst of the heather and I ran like mad myself shouting and singing and I come straight here.

I couldn't have stayed away.

Why the garden was lying here waiting?

Mary put her hands on her chest panting as if she had been running herself.

Oh Dickon,

Dickon she said,

I'm so happy I can barely breathe.

Seeing him talking to a stranger the little bushy tailed animal rose from its place under the tree and came to him and the rook cawing once flew down from its branch and settled quietly on his shoulder.

This is the little fox cub he said rubbing the little reddish animal's head.

Its name is Captain and this here's Suit.

Suit he flew across the moor with me and Captain he did run as if the hounds had been after him.

They both felt the same as I did.

Neither of the creatures looked as if he were the least afraid of Mary.

When Dickon began to walk about Suit stayed on his shoulder and Captain trotted quietly close to his side.

See here said Dickon,

See how these has pushed up and these and these and a look at these here.

He threw himself upon his knees and Mary went down beside him.

They had come upon a whole clump of crocuses burst into purple and orange and gold.

Mary bent her face down and kissed and kissed them.

You never kiss a person in that way she said when she lifted her head.

Flowers are so different.

She looked puzzled but smiled.

He said I've kissed mother many a time that way when I come in from the moor after a day's Roman and she stood there at the door in the sun looking so glad and comfortable.

They ran from one part of the garden to the other and found so many wonders that they were obliged to remind themselves that they must whisper or speak low.

He showed her swelling leaf buds on a rose branch which had seemed dead before.

He showed her 10,

000 new green points pushing around the mold.

They put their eager young noses close to the earth and sniffed its warm springtime breathing.

They dug and pulled and laughed low with rapture until Mistress Mary's hair was as tumbled as Dickens and her cheeks were almost as poppy red as his.

There was every joy on earth in the secret garden that morning and in the midst of them came a delight more delightful than all because it was more wonderful.

Swiftly something flew across the wall and darted through the trees to a close grown corner.

A little flare of red-breasted bird with something hanging in its beak.

Dickens stood quite still and put his hand on Mary almost as if they had suddenly found themselves laughing in a church.

We munt it stir he whispered in broad Yorkshire.

We munt it scarce breathe.

I'd known he was a mate hunting when I see him last.

It's Ben Weatherstaff's Robin.

He's building his nest.

He'll stay here if us don't fight him.

They settled down softly upon the grass and sat there without moving.

Us mustn't seem as us was watching him too close said Dickens.

He'd be out with us for good if he got the notion us was interfering now.

He'll be a good bit different till all this is over.

He's setting up housekeeping.

He'll be shyer and readier to take things ill.

He's got no time for visiting and gossiping.

Us must keep as still as we can to look as if us was grass and trees and bushes.

Then when he's got used to seeing us I'll chirp a bit and he'll know us not to be in his way.

Mistress Mary was not at all sure that she knew.

As Dickens seemed to,

How to try to look like grass and trees and bushes.

But he had said the queer thing as if it were the simplest and most natural thing in the world and she felt it must be quite easy to him.

And indeed,

She watched him for a few minutes carefully,

Wondering if it was possible for him to quietly turn green and put out branches and leaves.

But he only sat wonderfully still and when he spoke dropped his voice to such a softness that it was curious that she could hear him.

But she could.

It's part of the springtime this nest building is,

He said.

I warrant it's been going on the same way every year since the world has begun.

They've got their way of thinking and doing things and a body had better not metal.

You can lose a friend in springtime easier than any other season if you're not too curious.

If we talk about him I can't help looking at him,

Mary said as softly as possible.

We must talk of something else.

There is something I want to tell you.

He'll like it better if us talks of something else,

Said Dickens.

What is it that's got to tell me?

Well,

Do you know about Colin?

She whispered.

He turned his head to look at her.

What does the know about him?

He asked.

I've seen him.

I've been to talk to him every day this week.

He wants me to come.

He says I'm making him forget about being ill and dying,

Answered Mary.

Colin looked actually relieved as soon as the surprise died away from his round face.

I am glad of that,

He exclaimed.

I'm right down glad.

It makes me easier.

I know I must say nothing about him and I don't like having to hide things.

Don't you like hiding the garden,

Said Mary.

I'll never tell about it,

He answered,

But I says to mother.

Mother,

I says,

I got a secret to keep.

It's not a batten.

The knows that.

It's no worse than hiding where a bird's nested.

That doesn't mind it,

Does the?

Mary always wants to hear about mother.

What did she say,

She asked,

Not at all afraid to hear.

Dickens grinned sweet-temperedly.

It was just like her,

What she said,

He answered.

She gave my head a bit of a rub and laughed and says,

Hey,

Lad,

The can have all the secrets the likes.

I've known thee twelve years.

How did you know about Colin,

Asked Mary.

Everybody has known about Mr.

Craven,

Know there was a little lad as was like to be a cripple and they know Mr.

Craven didn't like him to be talked about.

Folks is sorry for Mr.

Craven because Mr.

Craven was,

Because Miss Craven was such a pretty young lady and they were so fond of each other.

Miss Medlock stops in our garden whenever she goes to Thwait and she doesn't mind talking to mother before us children because she knows us has been brought up to be trusty.

How did the find out about him?

Martha was in fine trouble last time she came home.

She said they'd heard him fretting and that was asking questions and she didn't know what to say.

Mary told him her story about the midnight weathering of the wind which had awakened her and about the faint far off sound of the complaining voice which had led her down the dark corridors with her candle and had ended with her opening of the door of the dimly lit room with the carvin four posted bed in the corner.

Then she described the small ivory white face and the strange black rimmed eyes Dickens shook his head.

Them is just like his mother's only hers was always laughing they say he said.

They say is Mr.

Craven can't bear to see him when he's awake and it's because his eyes is so much like his mother's and yet look so different in his miserable bit of a face.

Do you think he wants to die?

Whispered Mary no but he wishes he'd never been born mother she says that's the worst thing on earth for a child.

Them is not wanted scarce ever thrives Mr.

Craven he'd buy anything as money could buy for the poor lad but he'd like to forget as he's on earth.

For one thing he's afraid to look at him some day and find he's grown hunchback.

Collins so afraid of it himself that he won't sit up said Mary he says he's always thinking that if he should feel a lump coming he should go crazy and scream himself to death.

He oughtn't to lie there thinking things like that said Dickens no lad could get well as thought them sort of things.

The fox was lying on the grass close by him looking up to ask for a pat now and then and Dickens bent down and rubbed his neck softly and thought a few minutes in silence.

Suddenly he lifted his head and looked around the garden.

When first we got in here he said it seemed like everything was gray.

Look around now and tell me if that doesn't seem a difference.

Mary looked and caught her breath a little.

Why she cried the gray wall is changing.

It is as if a green mist were creeping over it.

It's almost like a green gauze veil.

I said Dickens and it'll be greener and greener till the gray is all gone.

Can the guess what I was thinking.

I know it was something nice said Mary eagerly.

I believe it was something about Colin.

I was thinking that if he was out here he wouldn't be watching for lumps to grow on his back he'd be watching for buds to break on the rose bushes and he'd likely be healthier explained Dickens.

I was wondering of us could ever get him in the humor to come out here and lie under the trees in his carriage.

I've been wondering that myself.

I've thought of it almost every time I've talked to him said Mary.

I've wondered if he could keep a secret and I've wondered if we can bring him here without anyone seeing us.

I thought perhaps you could push his carriage.

The doctor said he must have fresh air and if he wants us to take him out no one dare disobey him.

He won't go out for other people and perhaps they will be glad if he will go out with us.

He could order the gardeners to keep away so they wouldn't find out.

Dickens was thinking very hard as he scratched Captain's back.

It'd be good for him I'll warrant he said.

Us not be thinking he'd better never been born.

Us be just two children watching a garden grow and he'd be another.

Two lads and a little lass just looking on the springtime.

I warrant it'd be better than the doctor's stuff.

He's been lying in his room so long and he's always been so afraid of his back that it has made him queer said Mary.

He knows a good many things out of books but he doesn't know anything else.

He says he has been too ill to notice and he hates going out of doors and hates gardens and gardeners but he likes to hear about this garden because it's a secret.

I daren't tell him much but he said he wanted to see it.

Us'll have to get him out here sometime for sure said Dickens.

I could push his carriage well enough.

Has the notice how the robin and his mate has been working while they've been sitting here?

Look at him perched on that branch wondering where it'd be best to put the twig he's got in his beak.

He made one of his low whistling calls and the robin turned his head and looked at him inquiringly still holding the twig.

Dickens spoke to him as Ben Weatherstaff did but Dickens' tone was one of friendly advice.

Where's ever the puts it he said it'll be all right.

The knew how to build a nest before the came out of the egg.

Get on with thee lad.

That's got no time to lose.

Oh I do like to hear you talk to him Mary said laughing delightedly.

Ben Weatherstaff scolds him and makes fun of him and he hops about and looks as if he understood every word and I know he likes it.

Ben Weatherstaff says he's so conceited he would rather have stones thrown at him than not be noticed.

Dickens laughed too and went on talking.

The knows us won't trouble thee he said to the robin.

Us is near being wild things ourselves.

Us is nest building too bless thee.

Look out the doesn't tell on us.

And though the robin did not answer because his beak was occupied.

Mary knew that when he flew away with his twig to his own corner of the garden the darkness of his dew bright eye meant that he would not tell their secret for the world.

And that is the end of our sleep story this evening.

Until next time sweet dreams.

Reviews

I'm really enjoying listening to this book - I never read it as a kid! Sometimes I stay engaged and other times I fall asleep and have to go back the next day. But I like that it works both ways. Thank you!

💖🌻

Love, love, love!

Jeez still haven’t got to the end! Great 😊 thank you 🙏🏼

Such a soothing voice! I love this❤️