M ary Lennox was a spoilt, rude child. She was thin, bad-tempered and sour-faced and no one liked her at all.

When they got out of the train, carriage took them to the house. Mary could see nothing outside in the rainy blackness. "What's the moor like?" she asked. "It's just miles and miles of wild land," replied Mrs Medlock. "Nothing grows there but grose and heather, and nothing lives on it but wild ponies and sheep." At last the carriage stopped in a courtyard. A butler opened a huge oak door. "You're to take her to her room." he said to Mrs Medlock. "The master is going to London tomorrow, and he doesn't want to see her." Mary followed Mrs Medlock upstairs and through many corridors to a warm room with supper on the table. "This is where you'll live," Mrs Medlock told Mary. "See you stay here and don't go poking round the rest of the house." This was Mary's welcome to Misselthwaite Manor. It made her feel cross and unwanted and lonely.

THE GARDENS

The next morning, Mary awakened to find a housemaid lighting her fire. She was called Martha, and she chatted as she worked. Mary was not used to friendly servants. In India, she had never said "Please" or "Thank you", and once she had slapped her nurse's face when she was angry. Somehow she knew that she must not treat Martha this way. At first Mary had no interest in Martha's chatter, but little by little she began to listen to the friendly Yorkshire voice. "Eh! You should see all my brothers and sisters in our little cottage on the moor," Martha said. There's twelve of us, and my father only gets sixteen shillings a week. My mother has a job to feed 'em all for that. The fresh air on th' moor makes 'em strong and healthy. Our Dickon, he's twelve, he's always out on th' moor. He's good wi' animals. He's tamed a wild pony." When Martha left, Mary went out to play. "Go and look at the gardens," Martha had said. There's not much growing now, but it's lovely in summer!" She had stopped for a second and then said softly, "One garden has been shut up for ten years, ever since Mrs Craven died. Mr Craven locked the door and buried the key. He hates that garden." The grounds of Misselthwaite Manor were huge. The were divided by high walls, so there were many gardens. In some there were flowers and trees and fountains. Vegetables grew in others. Doors led from one garden to the next, and every garden looked bare and wintry. Presently an old man came through one of the doors. He had a surly old face and did not seem at all pleased to see Mary. "Can I go through that door?" asked Mary. "If tha likes," he replied. "There's nowt to see." Mary was hoping to find the door to the locked garden. She tried many doors, but they all opened easily. There was one wall covered with ivy that seemed to have no door at all. She could see trees behind the wall. Arobin on a high branch burst into song. She stopped to listen, and the cheerful notes brought a little smile to her unhappy face. She wandered back to the old man, who ignored her and went on digging. At last she said, "There's a garden over there without a door." "What garden?" he asked gruffly. "On the other side of that wall," she replied. " I heard a robin in the trees there." The old man stood up and a smile spread across his face. Mary saw how much nicer he looked when he smiled. He whistled very softly. The robin landed by the man's foot. "Here he is" he said quietly. "He always comes when I whistle. Isn't he a grand little chap? Look, he knows we're talking about him." The robin, plump and scarlet-breasted, hopped about, pecking at the earth. Ben Weatherstaff, the gardener, went on digging. "He's the only friend I've got, "he said. "When he's not with me, I'm lonely." "I'm lonely, too, "said Mary. "I've never had any friends" Ben stopped and looked at her. "I reckon we're a good bit alike, "he said. "We're not good-looking and we're as sour as we look." Mary had never thought before about her sour face or bad temper. Now that she did, it made her feel uncomfortable. Just then, the robin flew up into a tree and sang with all his voice. "He's taken a fancy to thee," said Ben. "He wants to be your friend." Mary looked up at the robin. "Would you be my friend?" she asked. She spoke softly and kindly, instead of in her usual hard, little voice. '"Why," said Ben, gently, "tha said that like a real child instead of a sharp old woman. It was nearly like Dickon when he talks to th' wild things on th' moor" The robin flew over the wall. "There must be a door to that garden, "Mary said with determination. "Well, there's none to be found now, "snapped Ben. "Don't go poking your nose in places where you don't belong. "And he walked off without saying goodbye.

ROBIN SHOWS THE WAY

Mary spent most days out of doors. The wind brought a glow to her cheeks, and each evening she ate a good meal. After supper, she liked to sit by the fire and talk to Martha. "Why does Mr. Craven hate the locked garden?" Mary asked one evening "It was Mrs Craven' s garden. She loved it," Martha said. She was sitting on the branch of a tree when it broke and she fell. She was hurt so bad, she died. That's why he hates it.' Mary had never felt sorry for anyone before, but now she understood how very unhappy Mr Craven must be. The wind blew across the moor and moaned and roared round the house. Martha called it ' wutherin' . Mary listened, and through the wutherin' she thought she heard a child crying. 'No," Martha said when Mary asked. 'It's only th' wind or th' scullery maid. She's been crying' all day with toothache.' And she quickly left the room. Next day it rained. 'On a day like this at home,' said Martha, ' we all try to keep busy indoors. Except Dickon. He goes out in all weathers. He brought home a fox cub that he found half drowned. He's got a crow, too, called Soot.' Left on her own, Mary decided to explore the house. In the stillness of the empty corridors, she heard again the faint sound of a child crying. As she stopped to listen at a door, Mrs Medlock came out of another room. ' What are you doing here?' she demanded. ' Get back to your room at once!' Mary was angry. She meant to find out about that crying. By morning the rain had passed. ' Wait until th' sun shines on the' golden gorse and th' heather," said Martha. " I' d like to see your cottage on the moor, and meet your mother,' said Mary " Tha would love my mother,' Martha said. "She's kind and loving and hard-working. When it's my day out and I can go home to see her, I just jump for joy." " I'd like to see Dickon, too,' said Mary " You'd like him,' Martha said. ' Everyone likes Dickon.' ' No one likes me,' said Mary sadly. ' Well, maybe that' s because you don't like other people,' said Martha, smiling. ' I never thought of that,' said Mary. Mary found Ben in the garden. ' Spring's coming,' he said. ' You'll soon see crocuses and daffydowndillys.' The robin flew down and pecked at the earth for a worm. As Mary came nearer to him, she saw a rusty key in the soil. ' Perhaps it's the key to the Secret Garden!' she thought, slipping it into her pocket. After supper, Martha told Mary about her day at home. 'Mother has sent you a present to cheer you up.' She brought out a skipping rope and showed Mary how to skip. ' Your mother is very kind,' said Mary. Now, wherever she went, Mary skipped, and the more she skipped, the stronger she grew.