Well, explained Martha, Mrs. Medlock says it s because o mother.
She was walkin to Thwaite village an she met him. She d never spoke
to him before, but Mrs. Craven had been to our cottage two or three
times. He d forgot, but mother hadn t an she made bold to stop him. I
don t know what she said to him about you but she said somethin as put
him in th mind to see you before he goes away again, tomorrow.
Oh! cried Mary, is he going away tomorrow? I am so glad!
He s goin for a long time. He mayn t come back till autumn or winter.
He s goin to travel in foreign places. He s always doin it.
Oh! I m so glad so glad! said Mary thankfully.
If he did not come back until winter, or even autumn, there would be
time to watch the secret garden come alive. Even if he found out then
and took it away from her she would have had that much at least.
When do you think he will want to see
She did not finish the sentence, because the door opened, and Mrs.
Medlock walked in. She had on her best black dress and cap, and her
collar was fastened with a large brooch with a picture of a man s face
on it. It was a colored photograph of Mr. Medlock who had died years
ago, and she always wore it when she was dressed up. She looked nervous
and excited.
Your hair s rough, she said quickly. Go and brush it. Martha, help
her to slip on her best dress. Mr. Craven sent me to bring her to him
in his study.
All the pink left Mary s cheeks. Her heart began to thump and she felt
herself changing into a stiff, plain, silent child again. She did not
even answer Mrs. Medlock, but turned and walked into her bedroom,
followed by Martha. She said nothing while her dress was changed, and
her hair brushed, and after she was quite tidy she followed Mrs.
Medlock down the corridors, in silence. What was there for her to say?
She was obliged to go and see Mr. Craven and he would not like her, and
she would not like him. She knew what he would think of her.
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