the heather with the sun shining and the gorse smelling like honey and
all full of bees and butterflies.
You never see anything if you are ill, said Colin restlessly. He
looked like a person listening to a new sound in the distance and
wondering what it was.
You can t if you stay in a room, said Mary.
I couldn t go on the moor, he said in a resentful tone.
Mary was silent for a minute and then she said something bold.
You might sometime.
He moved as if he were startled.
Go on the moor! How could I? I am going to die.
How do you know? said Mary unsympathetically. She didn t like the way
he had of talking about dying. She did not feel very sympathetic. She
felt rather as if he almost boasted about it.
Oh, I ve heard it ever since I remember, he answered crossly. They
are always whispering about it and thinking I don t notice. They wish I
would, too.
Mistress Mary felt quite contrary. She pinched her lips together.
If they wished I would, she said, I wouldn t. Who wishes you would?
The servants and of course Dr. Craven because he would get
Misselthwaite and be rich instead of poor. He daren t say so, but he
always looks cheerful when I am worse. When I had typhoid fever his
face got quite fat. I think my father wishes it, too.
I don t believe he does, said Mary quite obstinately.
That made Colin turn and look at her again.
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