Таємничий сад
X. Dickon
“OnceortwiceayearI’dgoan’workat’emabit—prune’eman’digaboutth’roots.Theyrunwild,buttheywasinrichsoil,sosomeof’emlived.”
“Whentheyhavenoleavesandlookgrayandbrownanddry,howcanyoutellwhethertheyaredeadoralive?”inquiredMary.
“Waittillth’springgetsat’em—waittillth’sunshinesonth’rainandth’rainfallsonth’sunshinean’thentha’llfindout.”
“How—how?”criedMary,forgettingtobecareful.
“Lookalongth’twigsan’branchesan’iftha’seeabitofabrownlumpswellingherean’there,watchitafterth’warmrainan’seewhathappens.”Hestoppedsuddenlyandlookedcuriouslyathereagerface.“Whydoestha’caresomuchaboutrosesan’such,allofasudden?”hedemanded.
MistressMaryfeltherfacegrowred.Shewasalmostafraidtoanswer.
“I—Iwanttoplaythat—thatIhaveagardenofmyown,”shestammered.“I—thereisnothingformetodo.Ihavenothing—andnoone.”
“Well,”saidBenWeatherstaffslowly,ashewatchedher,“that’strue.Tha’hasn’t.”
HesaiditinsuchanoddwaythatMarywonderedifhewasactuallyalittlesorryforher.Shehadneverfeltsorryforherself;shehadonlyfelttiredandcross,becauseshedislikedpeopleandthingssomuch.Butnowtheworldseemedtobechangingandgettingnicer.Ifnoonefoundoutaboutthesecretgarden,sheshouldenjoyherselfalways.
Shestayedwithhimfortenorfifteenminuteslongerandaskedhimasmanyquestionsasshedared.
