9 Such a Strange Place

CHAPTER 9 Such a Strange Place The garden was the most Mysterious place anyone could imagine. Its walls were covered with bare branches. Wintry brown grass covered the ground. There were clumps of bare bushes and little trees. Mary knew that they were rose plants like she had seen in India. There were other kinds of trees. The climbing rose canes hung down like curtains, and the vines had grown together, making

little bridges between the trees. The tangle of branches and vines made the garden seem so mysterious. It was very quiet. Even the robin in the treetop didn't move. In a whisper she said, "I am the first person to speak in this place in ten years!" She walked over the brown grass. Stopping under one of the vine bridges, she wondered if they were all quite dead. She hoped not. Even so, she was inside the garden: a world of her own at last. The sun was shining, and the sky looked even bluer here. The robin flitted from one tree to the next. He chirped busily, telling her about the garden. She forgot to feel lonely. She kept thinking how beautiful it would be if the garden came alive. She began to skip around the garden, taking it all in. There were little paths in the

grass, stone benches, and moss-covered urns. Then she noticed a flowerbed full of dried grass with little green shoots sticking out of the ground. She remembered what Ben had told her. "There are things growing here!" she exclaimed. "It isn't quite dead!" She looked about carefully. She found many more pale green shoots among the old beds. Although she had never been a gardener, she thought she could help tend the little plants. She found a sharp stick. With great care, she dug away the grass around a few plants. She dug up some little white things that looked like onions and then replanted them. When she'd cleared a space, she said, "Now the plants can breathe." She decided to do more each day until she had done them

all. Mary almost forgot about lunch and had to run back to the house. Martha was very surprised to see Mary's rosy cheeks and bright eyes. She was even more surprised when Mary asked for double helpings of meat and rice pudding. While eating, Mary asked, "What are those white things in the ground that look like onions?" "They're bulbs," Martha said. "The little ones are snowdrops and crocuses. The bigger ones are daffodils, and the biggest are lilies and irises. Those flowers live a long time— they spread out and have little ones. Dickon planted bulbs all around our cottage." "Does Dickon know about flowers?" Mary asked. "Our Dickon can make flowers grow on a stonewall," Martha said with pride. "Mother

says he just whispers things out of the ground." Mary finished her pudding and went to sit by the fireplace. "I wish I had a little spade," she said. "Whatever for?" Martha asked. Mary didn't want to give away her secret. If Mr. Craven found out, she feared, he might lock up the garden forever. After a minute she said, "I don't have much to do here. I only have you and Ben Weatherstaff to talk to, and you're both so busy. If I had a spade and some seeds, I could make a little garden." Martha's face lit up. "Why, that's what Mother said! You could grow parsley and radishes." "Your mother knows so many things, doesn't she?" Mary said. "She says that a mother who raises twelve

children learns more than the ABCs," Martha chuckled. "Now, I've seen little garden sets at the shop in Thwaite. There's a spade, a rake, and a fork that cost but two shillings." "I have that!" Mary almost shouted. "Mrs. Medlock gives me a shilling every week." Martha said, "If we write Dickon a letter, he can buy the tools. And some flower seeds, too. Can you print?" Mary nodded eagerly. "I have some chores to do for Mrs. Medlock," Martha said, "but I'll come back as soon as I can with some paper and a pen and ink." So Mary didn't get to go back to the garden that day. When Martha returned much later, together they printed a nice letter to Dickon and Martha signed it. "Put your money in the envelope. Dickon will buy your tools, and he can bring them to