16 An Argument

CHAPTER 16 An Argument Mary had almost forgotten about seeing Colin that afternoon. After lunch, she asked Martha to tell him that she couldn't come till later. "That will put him in a bad mood," Martha said fearfully. But Mary wasn't used to thinking of others' feelings. She didn't understand how lonely life could be for a person who was ill and nervous and thought he couldn't control

his temper. She and Dickon worked all afternoon. They rested a little, and Dickon played a song on his flute. He told her about the trees that would bloom before spring was over— apple, cherry, peach, and plum. As the sun set, they both promised to return to the garden the next morning. When she returned, Martha was waiting. Her face was not happy. "Mr. Colin's been acting terrible all afternoon," Martha said. "We've had quite a time keeping him quiet. You should have gone to see him today." But Mary didn't feel guilty or afraid when she went to his room. She marched straight up to him and said, "Why are you still in bed?" "I got up this morning thinking you were coming," he said, looking away, "but I made

them put me in bed this afternoon. My back and my head ached. Why didn't you come?" "I was in the garden with Dickon," she said. "I won't let him come here anymore," said Colin in his rajah manner. Mary grew angry, stiff, and stubborn. "If you send Dickon away, I'll never visit you again!" "I'll make you!" he shouted. "They'll drag you here!" "Oh, will they, Mr. Rajah?" Mary said fiercely. "But they can't make me talk to you! Or look at you!" Even though they couldn't have a roughand- tumble fight, they could yell and shout. "You're selfish!" Colin cried. "No—you're selfish!" Mary shouted. "I'm not as selfish as Dickon!" Colin yelled. "He keeps you playing in the dirt when he

knows I'm here all alone." Mary's eyes flashed with anger. "Dickon's nicer than any other boy!" she exclaimed. "He's magical! He's like—an angel!" "He's just a common country boy," Colin said with a sneer. "He's better than a common rajah!" Mary shouted back. Their arguing was getting the better of Colin. He'd never had a fight with anyone who argued back. So he turned his head away and cried a little tear of self-pity. "I'm not selfish," he whimpered. "I'm ill. I have a lump on my back, and I'm going to diesoon..." "You are not," Mary said frostily. "But I am! Everybody says so!" Colin cried. "I don't believe it," Mary said sourly. "You say that to make people sorry for you. You're proud of it."

At that, Colin was so angry that he forgot his aching back and sat straight up. "Get out of my room!" he screamed. He threw his pillow at her. It landed at her feet. Mary went to the door. She stopped to say, "I was going to tell you all sorts of nice things —about Dickon's fox cub and his crow—but now I won't tell you a single thing!" And she stormed out. Walking back to her room, Mary felt cross. She was thinking that she wouldn't tell Colin about the secret garden. It would serve him right! Then she remembered how afraid Colin was that he would become a hunchback and die. She knew he had tantrums when he was tired and afraid. "Just maybe he was thinking about lumps because he was alone this afternoon," she thought. "I think I will go see him tomorrow

even if he throws pillows at me."