In her eagerness she did not realize how queer the words would sound
and that they were not the ones she had meant to say. Mr. Craven looked
quite startled.
Earth! he repeated. What do you mean?
To plant seeds in to make things grow to see them come alive, Mary
faltered.
He gazed at her a moment and then passed his hand quickly over his
eyes.
Do you care about gardens so much, he said slowly.
I didn t know about them in India, said Mary. I was always ill and
tired and it was too hot. I sometimes made little beds in the sand and
stuck flowers in them. But here it is different.
Mr. Craven got up and began to walk slowly across the room.
A bit of earth, he said to himself, and Mary thought that somehow she
must have reminded him of something. When he stopped and spoke to her
his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind.
You can have as much earth as you want, he said. You remind me of
someone else who loved the earth and things that grow. When you see a
bit of earth you want, with something like a smile, take it, child,
and make it come alive.
May I take it from anywhere if it s not wanted?
Anywhere, he answered. There! You must go now, I am tired. He
touched the bell to call Mrs. Medlock. Good-by. I shall be away all
summer.
Mrs. Medlock came so quickly that Mary thought she must have been
waiting in the corridor.
Mrs. Medlock, Mr. Craven said to her, now I have seen the child I
understand what Mrs. Sowerby meant. She must be less delicate before
95