The Secret Garden

You can lose a friend in springtime easier than any other season

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

. It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

It was an­other cry, but not quite like the one she had heard last night; it was only a short one, a fret­ful, child­ish whine muf­fled by pass­ing through walls.

car­ried out,

She won­dered if they were all re­ally locked and what she would find if she could get into any of them.

She did not care very much about the li­brary it­self, be­cause she had read very few books; but to hear of it brought back to her mind the hun­dred rooms with closed doors.

It was a cu­ri­ous sound—it seemed al­most as if a child were cry­ing some­where.

That’s why he hates it.

But one day when she was sit­tin’ there th’ branch broke an’ she fell on th’ ground an’ was hurt so bad that next day she died.

An’ none o’ th’ gar­den­ers was ever let to go in. Him an’ her used to go in an’ shut th’ door an’ stay there hours an’ hours, readin’ an’ talkin’.

this place that’s not to be talked over. That’s Mr. ​​​​​Craven’s or­ders.

“Mrs. ​​​​​Med­lock said it’s not to be talked about. There’s lots o’ things in

“Why did he hate it?” Mary per­sisted.

his feath­ers with his beak.

“It’s in the gar­den no one can go into,” she said to her­self. “It’s the gar­den with­out a door. He lives in there. How I wish I could see what it is like!”

wall—much lower down—and there was the same tree in­side.

Now she was on the other side of the or­chard and stand­ing in the path out­side a