Таємничий 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.
