Таємничий сад
X. Dickon
WhoelsecouldhavebeencharmingrabbitsandpheasantsasthenativescharmsnakesinIndia?Hehadawide,red,curvingmouthandhissmilespreadalloverhisface.
“Igotupslow,”heexplained,“becauseiftha’makesaquickmoveitstartles’em.Abody’astomovegentlean’speaklowwhenwildthingsisabout.”
Hedidnotspeaktoherasiftheyhadneverseeneachotherbeforebutasifheknewherquitewell.Maryknewnothingaboutboysandshespoketohimalittlestifflybecauseshefeltrathershy.
“DidyougetMartha’sletter?”sheasked.
Henoddedhiscurly,rust-coloredhead.
“That’swhyIcome.”
Hestoopedtopickupsomethingwhichhadbeenlyingonthegroundbesidehimwhenhepiped.
“I’vegotth’gardentools.There’salittlespadean’rakean’aforkan’hoe.Eh!theyaregood’uns.There’satrowel,too.An’th’womaninth’shopthrewinapacketo’whitepoppyan’oneo’bluelarkspurwhenIboughtth’otherseeds.”
“Willyoushowtheseedstome?”Marysaid.
Shewishedshecouldtalkashedid.Hisspeechwassoquickandeasy.Itsoundedasifhelikedherandwasnottheleastafraidshewouldnotlikehim,thoughhewasonlyacommonmoorboy,inpatchedclothesandwithafunnyfaceandarough,rusty-redhead.Asshecameclosertohimshenoticedthattherewasacleanfreshscentofheatherandgrassandleavesabouthim,almostasifheweremadeofthem.Shelikeditverymuchandwhenshelookedintohisfunnyfacewiththeredcheeksandroundblueeyessheforgotthatshehadfeltshy.
