Dr. Craven did not look happy when he left the room.
He gave a puzzled glance at the little girl sitting
on the large stool. She had become a stiff, silent
child again as soon as he entered and he could not
see what the attraction was. The boy actually
did look brighter, however—and he sighed
rather heavily as he went down the corridor.
“They are always wanting me to eat things when
I don’t want to,” said Colin, as the nurse
brought in the tea and put it on the table by the
sofa. “Now, if you’ll eat I will.
Those muffins look so nice and hot. Tell me about
Rajahs.”
NEST BUILDING
After another week of rain the high arch of blue sky
appeared again and the sun which poured down was quite
hot. Though there had been no chance to see either
the secret garden or Dickon, Mistress Mary had enjoyed
herself very much. The week had not seemed long.
She had spent hours of every day with Colin in his
room, talking about Rajahs or gardens or Dickon and
the cottage on the moor. They had looked at the
splendid books and pictures and sometimes Mary had
read things to Colin, and sometimes he had read a
little to her. When he was amused and interested
she thought he scarcely looked like an invalid at all,
except that his face was so colorless and he was always
on the sofa.
“You are a sly young one to listen and get out
of your bed to go following things up like you did
that night,” Mrs. Medlock said once. “But
there’s no saying it’s not been a sort
of blessing to the lot of us. He’s not
had a tantrum or a whining fit since you made friends.
The nurse was just going to give up the case because
she was so sick of him, but she says she doesn’t
mind staying now you’ve gone on duty with her,”
laughing a little.
In her talks with Colin, Mary had tried to be very
cautious about the secret garden. There were
certain things she wanted to find out from him, but
she felt that she must find them out without asking
him direct questions. In the first place, as
she began to like to be with him, she wanted to discover
whether he was the kind of boy you could tell a secret
to. He was not in the least like Dickon, but he
was evidently so pleased with the idea of a garden
no one knew anything about that she thought perhaps
he could be trusted. But she had not known him
long enough to be sure. The second thing she
wanted to find out was this: If he could be trusted—if
he really could—wouldn’t it be possible
to take him to the garden without having any one find
it out? The grand doctor had said that he must
have fresh air and Colin had said that he would not
mind fresh air in a secret garden. Perhaps if
he had a great deal of fresh air and knew Dickon and
the robin and saw things growing he might not think
so much about dying. Mary had seen herself in
the glass sometimes lately when she had realized that
she looked quite a different creature from the child
she had seen when she arrived from India. This
child looked nicer. Even Martha had seen a change
in her.
