Our Dickon can make a flower grow out of a brick walk. Mother says he
just whispers things out o th ground.
Do bulbs live a long time? Would they live years and years if no one
helped them? inquired Mary anxiously.
They re things as helps themselves, said Martha. That s why poor
folk can afford to have em. If you don t trouble em, most of em ll
work away underground for a lifetime an spread out an have little
uns. There s a place in th park woods here where there s snowdrops by
thousands. They re the prettiest sight in Yorkshire when th spring
comes. No one knows when they was first planted.
I wish the spring was here now, said Mary. I want to see all the
things that grow in England.
She had finished her dinner and gone to her favorite seat on the
hearth-rug.
I wish I wish I had a little spade, she said.
Whatever does tha want a spade for? asked Martha, laughing. Art
tha goin to take to diggin ? I must tell mother that, too.
Mary looked at the fire and pondered a little. She must be careful if
she meant to keep her secret kingdom. She wasn t doing any harm, but if
Mr. Craven found out about the open door he would be fearfully angry
and get a new key and lock it up forevermore. She really could not bear
that.
This is such a big lonely place, she said slowly, as if she were
turning matters over in her mind. The house is lonely, and the park is
lonely, and the gardens are lonely. So many places seem shut up. I
never did many things in India, but there were more people to look
at natives and soldiers marching by and sometimes bands playing, and my
Ayah told me stories. There is no one to talk to here except you and
Ben Weatherstaff. And you have to do your work and Ben Weatherstaff
won t speak to me often. I thought if I had a little spade I could dig
somewhere as he does, and I might make a little garden if he would give
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