Таємничий сад
XXVI. “It’s Mother!”
Beingananimalcharmerhecouldseemorethingsthanmostpeoplecouldandmanyofthemwerethingshenevertalkedabout.Hesawsomeofthemnowinthisboy.
“Aye,thatwedo,”heanswered.
Marylookedhardtoo,butshesaidnothing.
“Justthisminute,”saidColin,“allatonceIremembereditmyself—whenIlookedatmyhanddiggingwiththetrowel—andIhadtostanduponmyfeettoseeifitwasreal.Anditisreal!I’mwell—I’mwell!”
“Aye,thatth’art!”saidDickon.
“I’mwell!I’mwell!”saidColinagain,andhisfacewentquiteredallover.
Hehadknownitbeforeinaway,hehadhopeditandfeltitandthoughtaboutit,butjustatthatminutesomethinghadrushedallthroughhim—asortofrapturousbeliefandrealizationandithadbeensostrongthathecouldnothelpcallingout.
“Ishallliveforeverandeverandever!”hecriedgrandly.“Ishallfindoutthousandsandthousandsofthings.Ishallfindoutaboutpeopleandcreaturesandeverythingthatgrows—likeDickon—andIshallneverstopmakingMagic.I’mwell!I’mwell!Ifeel—IfeelasifIwanttoshoutoutsomething—somethingthankful,joyful!”
BenWeatherstaff,whohadbeenworkingneararose-bush,glancedroundathim.
“Tha’mightsingth’Doxology,”hesuggestedinhisdryestgrunt.HehadnoopinionoftheDoxologyandhedidnotmakethesuggestionwithanyparticularreverence.
ButColinwasofanexploringmindandheknewnothingabouttheDoxology.
“Whatisthat?”heinquired.
“Dickoncansingitforthee,I’llwarrant,”repliedBenWeatherstaff.
