Таинственный сад

X. Dickon

           ThenhestoodlookingatthehandleofthespadeasiftheremightbeMagicinit,andthenhebegantodigagainandsaidnothingforseveralminutes.

           Butbecausehekeptbreakingintoaslowgrinnowandthen,Marywasnotafraidtotalktohim.

           “Haveyouagardenofyourown?”sheasked.

           “No.I’mbachelderan’lodgewithMartinatth’gate.”

           “Ifyouhadone,”saidMary,“whatwouldyouplant?”

           “Cabbagesan’’tatersan’onions.”

           “Butifyouwantedtomakeaflowergarden,”persistedMary,“whatwouldyouplant?”

           “Bulbsan’sweet-smellin’things—butmostlyroses.”

           Mary’sfacelightedup.

           “Doyoulikeroses?”shesaid.

           BenWeatherstaffrootedupaweedandthrewitasidebeforeheanswered.

           “Well,yes,Ido.IwaslearnedthatbyayoungladyIwasgardenerto.Shehadalotinaplaceshewasfondof,an’sheloved’emliketheywaschildren—orrobins.I’veseenherbendoveran’kiss’em.”Hedraggedoutanotherweedandscowledatit.“Thatwereasmuchastenyear’ago.”

           “Whereisshenow?”askedMary,muchinterested.

           “Heaven,”heanswered,anddrovehisspadedeepintothesoil,“’cordingtowhatparsonsays.”

           “Whathappenedtotheroses?”Maryaskedagain,moreinterestedthanever.

           “Theywaslefttothemselves.”

           Marywasbecomingquiteexcited.

           “Didtheyquitedie?Dorosesquitediewhentheyarelefttothemselves?”sheventured.

           “Well,I’dgottolike’em—an’Ilikedher—an’sheliked’em,”BenWeatherstaffadmittedreluctantly.

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