Таинственный сад
XXIII. Magic
Notasshewasoneo’themaslookeddownonth’earth—nother.Shejustloveditbutshesaidasth’blueskyalluslookedsojoyful.”
TheseedsDickonandMaryhadplantedgrewasiffairieshadtendedthem.Satinypoppiesofalltintsdancedinthebreezebythescore,gailydefyingflowerswhichhadlivedinthegardenforyearsandwhichitmightbeconfessedseemedrathertowonderhowsuchnewpeoplehadgotthere.Andtheroses—theroses!Risingoutofthegrass,tangledroundthesun-dial,wreathingthetreetrunksandhangingfromtheirbranches,climbingupthewallsandspreadingoverthemwithlonggarlandsfallingincascades—theycamealivedaybyday,hourbyhour.Fairfreshleaves,andbuds—andbuds—tinyatfirstbutswellingandworkingMagicuntiltheyburstanduncurledintocupsofscentdelicatelyspillingthemselvesovertheirbrimsandfillingthegardenair.
Colinsawitall,watchingeachchangeasittookplace.Everymorninghewasbroughtoutandeveryhourofeachdaywhenitdidn’trainhespentinthegarden.Evengraydayspleasedhim.Hewouldlieonthegrass“watchingthingsgrowing,”hesaid.Ifyouwatchedlongenough,hedeclared,youcouldseebudsunsheaththemselves.Alsoyoucouldmaketheacquaintanceofstrangebusyinsectthingsrunningaboutonvariousunknownbutevidentlyseriouserrands,sometimescarryingtinyscrapsofstraworfeatherorfood,orclimbingbladesofgrassasiftheyweretreesfromwhosetopsonecouldlookouttoexplorethecountry.
