Таинственный сад

VI. The Key To The Garden

           “Arealltheflowersdead,ordosomeofthemcomeagaininthesummer?Arethereeveranyroses?”

           “Askhim,”saidBenWeatherstaff,hunchinghisshoulderstowardtherobin.“He’stheonlyoneasknows.Nooneelsehasseeninsideitfortenyear’.”

           Tenyearswasalongtime,Marythought.Shehadbeenborntenyearsago.

           Shewalkedaway,slowlythinking.ShehadbeguntolikethegardenjustasshehadbeguntoliketherobinandDickonandMartha’smother.ShewasbeginningtolikeMartha,too.Thatseemedagoodmanypeopletolike—whenyouwerenotusedtoliking.Shethoughtoftherobinasoneofthepeople.Shewenttoherwalkoutsidethelong,ivy-coveredwalloverwhichshecouldseethetree-tops;andthesecondtimeshewalkedupanddownthemostinterestingandexcitingthinghappenedtoher,anditwasallthroughBenWeatherstaff’srobin.

           Sheheardachirpandatwitter,andwhenshelookedatthebareflower-bedatherleftsidetherehewashoppingaboutandpretendingtopeckthingsoutoftheearthtopersuadeherthathehadnotfollowedher.Butsheknewhehadfollowedherandthesurprisesofilledherwithdelightthatshealmosttrembledalittle.

           “Youdorememberme!”shecriedout.“Youdo!Youareprettierthananythingelseintheworld!”

           Shechirped,andtalked,andcoaxedandhehopped,andflirtedhistailandtwittered.Itwasasifheweretalking.Hisredwaistcoatwaslikesatinandhepuffedhistinybreastoutandwassofineandsograndandsoprettythatitwasreallyasifhewereshowingherhowimportantandlikeahumanpersonarobincouldbe

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