rushed at her face and roared and held her back as if it were some
giant she could not see. But the big breaths of rough fresh air blown
over the heather filled her lungs with something which was good for her
whole thin body and whipped some red color into her cheeks and
brightened her dull eyes when she did not know anything about it.
But after a few days spent almost entirely out of doors she wakened one
morning knowing what it was to be hungry, and when she sat down to her
breakfast she did not glance disdainfully at her porridge and push it
away, but took up her spoon and began to eat it and went on eating it
until her bowl was empty.
Tha got on well enough with that this mornin , didn t tha ? said
Martha.
It tastes nice today, said Mary, feeling a little surprised herself.
It s th air of th moor that s givin thee stomach for tha
victuals, answered Martha. It s lucky for thee that tha s got
victuals as well as appetite. There s been twelve in our cottage as had
th stomach an nothin to put in it. You go on playin you out o
doors every day an you ll get some flesh on your bones an you won t
be so yeller.
I don t play, said Mary. I have nothing to play with.
Nothin to play with! exclaimed Martha. Our children plays with
sticks and stones. They just runs about an shouts an looks at
things. Mary did not shout, but she looked at things. There was
nothing else to do. She walked round and round the gardens and wandered
about the paths in the park. Sometimes she looked for Ben Weatherstaff,
but though several times she saw him at work he was too busy to look at
her or was too surly. Once when she was walking toward him he picked up
his spade and turned away as if he did it on purpose.
One place she went to oftener than to any other. It was the long walk
outside the gardens with the walls round them. There were bare
flower-beds on either side of it and against the walls ivy grew
thickly. There was one part of the wall where the creeping dark green
leaves were more bushy than elsewhere. It seemed as if for a long time
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