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    The Secret Garden
    The Secret Garden
    The Secret Garden
    Ebook282 pages4 hours

    The Secret Garden

    By Frances Hodgson Burnett

    4/5

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    "The Secret Garden" is a novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It was initially published in serial format starting in the autumn of 1910, and was first published in its entirety in 1911. It is now one of Burnett's most popular novels, and is considered to be a classic of English children's literature. Several stage and film adaptations have been produced.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPaperless
    Release dateJan 31, 2015
    ISBN9786050353471
    Author

    Frances Hodgson Burnett

    Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849-1924) was born in Manchester and spent her early years there with her family. Her father died in 1852, and eventually, in 1865, Frances emigrated to the United States with her mother and siblings, settling with family in Knoxville, Tennessee. Frances began to be published at the age of nineteen, submitting short stories to magazines and using the proceeds to help support the family. In 1872, she married Swan Burnett, a doctor, with whom she had two sons while living in Paris. Her first novel, That Lass o'Lowrie's, was published in 1877, while the Burnetts were living in Washington D. C. Following a separation from her husband, Burnett lived on both sides of the Atlantic, eventually marrying for a second time, however she never truly recovered from the death of her first son, Lionel. Best known during her lifetime for Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886), her books for children, including The Secret Garden and The Little Princess, have endured as classics, but Burnett also wrote many other novels for adults, which were hugely popular and favourably compared to authors such as George Eliot.

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    Reviews for The Secret Garden

    4/5

    6,151 ratings206 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Having just re-read "Black Beauty" and being disappointed, i was nervous about revisiting this book but, thankfully, my fears were unfounded. "The Secret Garden" was as delightful as the first time I read it many, many years ago.
    • 3/5
      There is a lot to like about this children's classic: the set-up (Mary's family is all killed off during an outbreak of cholera in India - ouch! You don't have cold-hearted openings like that so often these days, and certainly not in this genre), the characterisations, the way that Hodgson Burnett attaches her story to the landscape of the Moors, the way that good life lessons are carefully disseminated without every becoming too cloying... and yet, because the ending was so well sign-posted by the halfway stage of the book, some sections did tend towards the tedious. Add to that the generally poor treatment meted out to the underclass (the poor, the gardeners, the household staff) and you end up with a book that it's easy to like and easy to be put off by. I'm glad I read it, and I would have no difficulty in recommending it to others, but there is a part of me that thinks that this book's time has been and gone.
    • 4/5
      The Secret Garden tells the story of Mary, a young girl of privilege growing up in India who, after her parents' death of cholera, is swept away to live in her estranged uncle's Yorkshire manor house in England. Spoiled and disagreeable, with no history of any true friendships, she must adapt to a new environment and learn to entertain herself.I'm one of probably a very few who have not previously read or seen the movie adaptation of The Secret Garden. I've had a copy of the book on my shelf for quite a while, but it wasn't until just recently that I decided to delve into an audio copy available on Hoopla, which I devoured pretty quickly while doing various work & household activities. This book is definitely a product of its era (published in 1911), but that's part of its charm. The most enjoyable aspect for me was reading about the true pleasure of the discovery of a garden and the effects that discovery can have on a child's imagination and outlook on life. Sometimes it's the simple things which can bring us such pleasure, and it's nice to be able to look at that through a child's eye.
    • 5/5
      Why did I wait so long to read this classic? The plot of this book centers around Mary Lennox, who came to England to live with a brooding uncle who she has never met as her parents both died of Cholera. She was a most disagreeable child. While there, she discovers her most disagreeable cousin who has been told he is an invalid from birth. She also meets Dicken, a Yorkshire lad who introduces the moor to Mary and her cousin. Just delightful!
    • 5/5
      Mary, a spoiled girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents in India. Encouraged to get outside, Mary discovers a secret garden, waiting to be brought back to life. With the help of her new friend Dickon, she transforms the garden and the garden transforms everyone who enters. This is another one of my favorite books. This book describes the garden in such detail that it can help students imagine what the garden looks like. The students could write about what they would do if they found a secret garden of their own. They could also compare and contrast this book with the movie version as well.
    • 4/5
      Fun audiobook with Fiona Hughes reading it.
    • 5/5
      One of my favorite childhood books, about a young girl named Mary who is sent to live with her recluse Uncle in England after her parents die in India. She befriends her spoiled cousin and a local common boy, and together they discover an abandoned garden.
    • 4/5
      I loved this as a child and reading it as an adult was a treat. A must read.
    • 4/5
      I thoroughly enjoyed reading this novel, however I had a few problems with it. To begin, there was no set narrator. You didn't really get inside any character's head, and none of the character's were really "round." Even Mary, the protagonist, seemed distant to me. One of the things I cherish about books is the connection I have with the characters, and this was certainly a novel lacking in that aspect. Another issue was that the novel was so thoroughly a product of its time period that I found myself overwhelmed, especially by some of the morals. It seems to be a light children's book but the author is pushing Victorian ideals on the reader, on a deeper level. For example, Mary is a disagreeable, stubborn child until she finds the garden and then she does a total 180 and ends up likable. All she needed was something to care about and some love from children her own age. How sweet. Additionally, the Magic deals with power of Christianity and it got a little overwhelmingly religious at times.
      However, overall, this book was certainly beautiful, especially the language when describing the garden. I can see why it remains a childhood classic.
    • 5/5
      This charming children’s classic, written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, is worth reading as an adult, even if you read it first as a child. The story vividly and accurately portrays the emotional journey that many third-culture-kids experience, as they confront the reverse-culture-shock of repatriation.Mary Lennox is a nine-year-old, British military brat, born and raised in British Colonial India. The story begins in the midst of a cholera epidemic, which kills both of her parents. When a pair of British officers discover Mary all alone in her parents’ empty bungalow, she is quickly sent “home” to England, to live with an uncle she has never met. Although the “spoilt and sour” demeanor Mary exhibits at the start of the book is certainly in part the result of attachment issues caused by neglectful parents, it is also very clear that many of the things that trouble her about her new home are simply the result of culture shock. And, as is typical for TCKs “returning home” to their passport countries, her ignorance of local customs is perceived as willful insolence, and any mention she makes of “how things were done” in India, is perceived as boastful arrogance.It is only when she begins applying her TCK skills of “foreign” language acquisition (learning to speak the Yorkshire dialect spoken by the local people), studying the details of her new environment (learning to understand an appreciate the strange natural beauty and wildlife of the moor), and working on collaborative projects with local residents (reviving a neglected, secret garden), that she overcomes her grief, and begins to thrive in her passport culture.And the secret to her success? The “magic” of choosing to change her attitude toward the foreign land she now calls home.
    • 5/5
      great book
    • 3/5
      Mary's wealthy, indulgent, but completely unloving parents are killed in an epidemic in India, and she is shipped off to an uncle, who will provide for her every need except love and attention. The spoiled girl soon comes under the spell of Yorkshire, the young maid who attends to her, and it softens her obnoxious, self indulgent ways. When she meets the maid's brother, Dickon, he softens her further. Then she learns that her absent guardian has a son of his own, about her age, who believes he is dying - though he is not. She and Dickon manage to convince Colin that he is fine, and he grows healthy. Oh yes - and there's a secret garden involved in all of this.This nice tale has two distinct weaknesses. One is that the plot only develops for about two thirds of the book. The final third just plods along to the 100% predictable conclusion with no further development or plot twists. The second and more serious weakness is that the protagonist totally changes halfway through the book. As we start reading - this is a book about Mary Lennox. She is absolutely who this book is about. We root for her as she softens to become a likable child. Then, suddenly Colin shows up - as hateful as Mary was at the beginning, and he becomes the main character. Mary fades further and further into the background until she is merely an incidental character in Colin's story. OK, but definitely not up to par with other children's classics of the same era.
    • 5/5
      A childhood classic!
    • 5/5
      My favorite kids book.
    • 5/5
      Very good narration by Josephine Bailey made this reread of a childhood favorite even more fun.
    • 5/5
      "The Secret Garden" by Frances Hodgson Burnett is the story of a young girl from India who befriends Collin, the sickly son of Archibold Craven, lord of Missethwaite Manor, located in England.The girl's name is Mary, who has just left India after becoming orphaned by a terrible plague. She slowly pulls Collin out of his sickbed, and into radiant health. She does so by introducing him to his late mother's once-neglected walled garden.I felt this classic was compelling and poignant. I loved the fact that the protagonist was a misfit. She held her own as a quintessential character, along with Collin and Dickon, the young gardener who helps her rescue the quiescent spirit of the garden itself. Mary has an optimistic viewpoint, contrary to the views held by his physician, Dr. Craven, and Mrs. Medlock, the housekeeper. However, Collin is just as complex in his inner character, and his change is just as significant as Mary's.I recommend this book to anyone who has known someone who is ill. It is the story of a child awakening to the power of optimism, friendship, intention, and care.Breton W Kaiser Taylor
    • 4/5
      Finally, a classic I actually enjoyed. I was looking for an easy book that I had on my e-reader while on vacation and this seemed like one that I could easily finish while not taking too much of my attention away from other activities - was I wrong! This story, though slow at the beginning, was totally enchanting and grabbed me until I finished. It's wonderful the way that the author had the children grow and mature as individuals while still keeping their innocence.I was even lucky enough to see the movie right after I finished the book. The book was better!
    • 5/5
      One of the most heart-warming stories ever told.
    • 5/5
      Mary Lenox never saw too much of her parents - they were always too busy. But when they both die she has to move from her home in India to England where her "strange and sour" uncle lives. Will she ever have friends and truly be happy? I was 10 years old when my mother gave me this book for my birthday. We spent more than a week reading it aloud to one another. My Mom is 90 years old now and we still share those precious memories created with a lovely book and an inciting story. Five stars for those memories alone!
    • 5/5
      Despite some flaws, namely Dickon, little brother of servant Martha, being absolutely flawless, and his mother (Mrs. Sowerby) being a bit too preachy about how having the right attitude solves your troubles, I think this is a great read for adults as well as kids. Two very troubled, but spoiled and bossy, children work out their own problems with only minor assistance from adults, and they make their own creative use of the small bits of help given by adults. For example, Mrs. Sowerby sends a skip rope for little Mary Lennox, who was recently orphaned in India and new to her uncle's large and lonely estate on the moors of England. A sour and demanding girl of seven, she has been accustomed to having every little thing done for, even being dressed, her by Indian servants, and slapping their faces whenever she's displeased. That won't fly in England. The skip rope gets Mary outside, exploring. She explores the house and discovers Colin, the hidden-away, invalid son of her uncle, a widower and world traveler who avoids his problems and his son simply by staying away. Little Dickon, an earthy boy at one with plants and animals, befriends Mary and Colin. The two miserable children not only learn to use their own brains to find their way, but they don't need magic, special powers, weapons, or spectacular external events to move the plot along. It is a story of inner transformation of these children, discovering and working with the quiet "magic" of Nature, using the stuff that they are made of as ordinary humans. Mary and Colin are also transformed by having met their match (each other) as nasty, demanding, spoiled, yet deeply wounded, kids. Mary is not about to be ordered around the way Colin orders his servants and nurse around, and if Colin likes having the company of another child for a change, he'll have to change. Very good writing as well as a good story.
    • 4/5
      Mini Book Review: I was disappointed when I first started the book as I heard so many fabulous things about this classic. I almost gave up after about 30 pages as it was hard to read about a child who was just utterly unlikeable (and yes I can see how she bacame that way) But than something happened about 45 pages in I started falling in love with her and wanted to know more. Such a charming, beautiful story and I now know why so many people list this as one of their favorite stories. Since I have to get 3 reviews done by New Years Eve (Tomorrow) this is going to be a quickie review. Fabulous character development and wonderful use of setting. You felt like you knew these characters and let me tell you the whole time I was reading, I also imagined that I was on the moors with the children. As a child this would be a truly marvelous read. As an adult my only negative comments would be that some might stop reading because at the beginning Mary is so unlikeable. Also the ending is a tad saccharine and predictable - but I really didn't mind that as I am a big softie. To put it simply it is a lovely sweet innocent tale of the importance of play, good fresh air and the power of imagination.4.5 Dewey'sI purchased this at the Indigo at the Eaton Centre for my BBC 100 Top Books Challenge (Yeah I totally failed I only finished 2 of the 5 I was going to review - but hey I moved across the country and became at stay at home mom)
    • 4/5
      Enjoyed it very much...a touching story from one of my favorite time periods with a very positive timeless message regarding the power of positive thinking...contrast with more adult current books...The Secret and Ayn Rand's Fountainhead...a must for every young persons reading list...and some older folk like me....:-)
    • 5/5
      I was pleased nearly beyond measure when I saw this audio on my library's list. I love listening to books as I fall asleep. It's difficult to listen to new books, though, as I lose track of my place. Books I know and love are what I like best for bedtime, and this is a book I know nearly by heart.

      Revisiting it now, I find it prefigures so many of my other favorites- I hear echoes of Roethke, I see a glimpse of Sam Gamgee in his old age, I think of Alec Ramsey in his heady rush of freedom riding a wild stallion into his future, I see Emily Webb trying to talk to the living, and young Gerry Durrell peering into the heart of a rose to see the spider change color.

      I found this book so long ago I have no memory of a time I didn't know it. My childhood was full of gardens, and I yearned for a secret garden of my own. I found the loving descriptions of weeding and pruning comforting and full of continuity. I loved watching the waking of the garden and of Mary and Colin.

      One of the things I love most about this book is the way in which it lovingly delineates all the different ways the characters come alive. That's one of the things that makes it timeless- I could read it at 9 and identify with Mary, at 14 with Dickon, at 30 with Susan. Now, it's Ben Weatherstaff, marveling at the springing life and beauty around him, failing utterly to hold back tears and wearing a grumpy face despite his soaring heart.

      Perhaps of my favorite passage, one that springs to mind when I'm slack-jawed and full of wonder, often in the garden:

      "One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun–which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes."
    • 4/5
      "To let a sad thought or a bad one get into your mind is as dangerous as letting a scarlet germ get into your body. If you let it stay there after it has got in you may never get over it as long as you live."Mary Lennox is a 10 year old girl unwanted and ignored by her parents. Self absorbed and obstinate, she is sent to live with her uncle at Misselthwaite Manor, a dark gloomy mansion in the Yorkshire moors of England. When she gets there not much changes-she's ignored by everyone around her, including her grumpy and distracted uncle, and she continues to act ill mannered and spoiled.Things begin to change when a friendly robin leads her to a secret door that leads to a forbidden secret garden. The secret garden opens up a new perspective for Mary, who doesn't know what it is to be loved, and she begins to love the garden and its growing things. With the help of a local "animal charmer", Dickon, and Mary's sickly cousin, Colin, who happens to be more obstinate than herself, the garden is slowly brought back to life. As they nurture the garden back to life, they begin to learn the power of caring for others and of believing in oneself.This book was a real charmer. Whimsical, mysterious, and full of good morals to teach young people, such as the importance of caring for others and the power our thoughts have on our attitudes and consequently our lives. This is a childrens classic I truly look forward to reading to my kiddos when they're a little bit older.
    • 4/5
      I've always believed I had read this book as a child. I know I had read a version of it - but quite a lot of the elements do not fit into what the book ended up being - so either it was a condensed version (during the translation) or I really don't remember it that well. It's a book full of magic - not the fantasy type but the magic of life, friendship and hope. And clean air. A girl that had grown up in India (and had always had her way there) and is shipped to England after the death of her parents, a boy that everyone believed to be so ill that he had almost never left his bedroom (and in the process convinced even himself that this is the case) and another boy that had grown up poor but free and has a knack for talking to animals - this does not sound like a regular group of kids that will get together but that's exactly what happens. Of course there is a garden, locked up for 10 years and hidden from the world, there is an old gardener that never forgot the past, there is the mother of one of them that will come to represent the mother of all of them. And there is the old English mansion - that looks so dreary to Mary when she arrives from sunny India and that ends up being at least as interesting place as any.Despite its good qualities, the book got on my nerves more than once - the naivete I can accept considering the age of the book but the repetitions were getting a bit too much. And resorting to a dream to drive the end of the story simply stole something from the magic of the book. The Yorkshire accent used by a lot of the characters takes a bit using to and I wonder if it was not part of my problem of the book - it is beautiful and interesting but it also slows down the story and at moments feel unnecessary. The 2006 Folio edition features gorgeous color illustrations by Charles Robinson - with pictures that could be seen in the books of my childhood, with the images clear and not trying to be modern or chic - just pictures that match points of the story and tell you the same as the words but it a different media.It's a book worth reading for the world of yesterday but I am not sure that it will be as alluring to the children of today as it was for the previous generations....
    • 5/5
      This is probably the loveliest book I've ever read.

      Mary Lennox was born in India and was raised by her ayah, without love from anyone. An then she has to go live at her uncle's in Yorkshire, England.

      This is a book about the discovery of love, about people learning how to care for each other. The way the story is told, the characters, the way they talk are so innocent that you can't help to smile because everything is so beautiful.

      Important: this is not exclusive for children. This is one those stories that can be read by anyone, at any age. The writing is not so childish as in most children's books.

      And the characters are really the most lovable ones. There's probably no one in the world who wouldn't love Dickon, a boy who loves everything about the nature and is friends with animals.

      I really cannot put into words how beautiful this book is. "The Secret Garden" is one of my favorite movies of all time, and now I can understand how such a movie was possible.
    • 5/5
      Hale introduces each chapter with a song lyrics or poetry from quarry village, Mount Eskel, where the next princess of the land is destined to come from. The setting is clearly established in the first chapter though the lead character Miri banking the coals, hanging goat dung out to dry and adding water to the salt port. She hears and hums the songs of the working quarry men mining for linder. The story is a tightly woven tapestry with the themes of friendship, community, family, work, and education. Each theme is well developed starting from a simple observation or thought of Miri building through each chapter. Hale twists the typical image of princess from a young woman solely immersed in social graces and dances to that of young women trying to better the lives of themselves and their community. Miri
    • 5/5
      This was a re-read. No matter how many times I read this book, and that has been many, I still thoroughly enjoy it! I rate it right up there with Jane Eyre which I have also read many times.
    • 5/5
      This book is about a little girl, Mary Lennox, who is orphaned after both her parents die of Cholera in India. She is sent to live with her uncle, Mr. Craven, in England but feels that she’s just as unwanted there as she was with her own parents. Being left to her own devices she learns that Mr. Craven’s wife died in a tragic accident but spent all of her time in a favorite garden that is now locked and hidden. By exploring the manor and the land she soon discovers the secret garden as well as her own cousin, Colin (the son of Mr. and Mrs. Craven) hidden away in a room due to his presumed spinal condition. Mary sneaks Colin out and with the help of their new friend Dickon, they begin to bring the garden back to life as well as restore Colin’s health and ability to walk. Mr. Craven, who spends most of his time brooding and traveling, comes home to discover the children in the garden and is shocked to find that his son can walk. The family is reunited and strengthened.I loved this book. There are so many interesting themes throughout the book as well as many mysteries. My favorite part of the book was when Mr. Craven finds Colin walking and running and realizes that, in his attempt to rid himself of his beloved wife’s tragedy, he has neglected his only son. I would be lying if I didn’t tear up at the thought of the family united by my Mary’s impertinence, curiosity, and determination. The characters seem very real and believable and I think that there is something in this book in which any child can relate.Classroom Extension Ideas:1.The children can choose a spot on school property (or they can use various pots) to plant their own secret garden. They can research and choose the different kinds of plants they will plant and take turns caring for the class’s secret garden.2.It might be interesting for older children to do different research activities about various things in this book. They could research the disease Cholera since it is pretty extinct these days. They could also do country studies on England and India. They could offer these studies in the form of a research paper, photo collage, or classroom presentation.
    • 5/5
      The Secret Garden is a book I have enjoyed again and again since childhood because of its themes and exciting plot. The story follows a young girl, Mary Lennox, and her journey from India after the death of her parents to her Uncle Archibald Craven’s estate in Yorkshire. Mary is an unhappy and unwell girl who finds solstice in search of a “secret garden” that once belonged to her uncle’s wife, Mistress Craven. She befriends the servants, gardeners and Dickon who assist her in nurturing the garden that has gone untouched but once a year since Mistress Craven’s passing. Mary also becomes interested in Master Craven’s son, Colin, whose cries she hears one night and is forbidden to seek out their source by the head servant, Mrs. Medlock. Mary finds the boy anyway and quickly realizes that his sadness stems from the belief that he will become a hunchback like his father and he will die young. Mary brings him to the garden with Dickon where Colin stands on his own for the first time. The author leads the reader to believe that the secret garden is responsible for Colin’s miraculous recovery, as well as Mary’s revival from her parents’ death. Themes include “mind over matter” and health having a direct relationship with outlook, as well as the importance of faith and human relationships.

    Book preview

    The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

    asleep.

    Across the Moor

    She slept a long time, and when she awakened Mrs. Medlock had bought a lunchbasket at one of the stations and they had some chicken and cold beef and bread and butter and some hot tea. The rain seemed to be streaming down more heavily than ever and everybody in the station wore wet and glistening waterproofs. The guard lighted the lamps in the carriage, and Mrs. Medlock cheered up very much over her tea and chicken and beef. She ate a great deal and afterward fell asleep herself, and Mary sat and stared at her and watched her fine bonnet slip on one side until she herself fell asleep once more in the corner of the carriage, lulled by the splashing of the rain against the windows. It was quite dark when she awakened again. The train had stopped at a station and Mrs. Medlock was shaking her.

    You have had a sleep! she said. It's time to open your eyes! We're at Thwaite Station and we've got a long drive before us.

    Mary stood up and tried to keep her eyes open while Mrs. Medlock collected her parcels. The little girl did not offer to help her, because in India native servants always picked up or carried things and it seemed quite proper that other people should wait on one.

    The station was a small one and nobody but themselves seemed to be getting out of the train. The station-master spoke to Mrs. Medlock in a rough, good-natured way, pronouncing his words in a queer broad fashion which Mary found out afterward was Yorkshire.

    I see tha's got back, he said. An' tha's browt th' young 'un with thee.

    Aye, that's her, answered Mrs. Medlock, speaking with a Yorkshire accent herself and jerking her head over her shoulder toward Mary. How's thy Missus?

    Well enow. Th' carriage is waitin' outside for thee.

    A brougham stood on the road before the little outside platform. Mary saw that it was a smart carriage and that it was a smart footman who helped her in. His long waterproof coat and the waterproof covering of his hat were shining and dripping with rain as everything was, the burly station-master included.

    When he shut the door, mounted the box with the coachman, and they drove off, the little girl found herself seated in a comfortably cushioned corner, but she was not inclined to go to sleep again. She sat and looked out of the window, curious to see something of the road over which she was being driven to the queer place Mrs. Medlock had spoken of. She was not at all a timid child and she was not exactly frightened, but she felt that there was no knowing what might happen in a house with a hundred rooms nearly all shut up--a house standing on the edge of a moor.

    What is a moor? she said suddenly to Mrs. Medlock.

    Look out of the window in about ten minutes and you'll see, the woman answered. We've got to drive five miles across Missel Moor before we get to the Manor. You won't see much because it's a dark night, but you can see something.

    Mary asked no more questions but waited in the darkness of her corner, keeping her eyes on the window. The carriage lamps cast rays of light a little distance ahead of them and she caught glimpses of the things they passed. After they had left the station they had driven through a tiny village and she had seen whitewashed cottages and the lights of a public house. Then they had passed a church and a vicarage and a little shop-window or so in a cottage with toys and sweets and odd things set out for sale. Then they were on the highroad and she saw hedges and trees. After that there seemed nothing different for a long time--or at least it seemed a long time to her.

    At last the horses began to go more slowly, as if they were climbing up-hill, and presently there seemed to be no more hedges and no more trees. She could see nothing, in fact, but a dense darkness on either side. She leaned forward and pressed her face against the window just as the carriage gave a big jolt.

    Eh! We're on the moor now sure enough, said Mrs. Medlock.

    The carriage lamps shed a yellow light on a rough-looking road which seemed to be cut through bushes and low-growing things which ended in the great expanse of dark apparently spread out before and around them. A wind was rising and making a singular, wild, low, rushing sound.

    It's--it's not the sea, is it? said Mary, looking round at her companion.

    No, not it, answered Mrs. Medlock. Nor it isn't fields nor mountains, it's just miles and miles and miles of wild land that nothing grows on but heather and gorse and broom, and nothing lives on but wild ponies and sheep.

    I feel as if it might be the sea, if there were water on it, said Mary. It sounds like the sea just now.

    That's the wind blowing through the bushes, Mrs. Medlock said. It's a wild, dreary enough place to my mind, though there's plenty that likes it--particularly when the heather's in bloom.

    On and on they drove through the darkness, and though the rain stopped, the wind rushed by and whistled and made strange sounds. The road went up and down, and several times the carriage passed over a little bridge beneath which water rushed very fast with a great deal of noise. Mary felt as if the drive would never come to an end and that the wide, bleak moor was a wide expanse of black ocean through which she was passing on a strip of dry land.

    I don't like it, she said to herself. I don't like it, and she pinched her thin lips more tightly together.

    The horses were climbing up a hilly piece of road when she first caught sight of a light. Mrs. Medlock saw it as soon as she did and drew a long sigh of relief.

    Eh, I am glad to see that bit o' light twinkling, she exclaimed. It's the light in the lodge window. We shall get a good cup of tea after a bit, at all events.

    It was after a bit, as she said, for when the carriage passed through the park gates there was still two miles of avenue to drive through and the trees (which nearly met overhead) made it seem as if they were driving through a long dark vault.

    They drove out of the vault into a clear space and stopped before an immensely long but low-built house which seemed to ramble round a stone court. At first Mary thought that there were no lights at all in the windows, but as she got out of the carriage she saw that one room in a corner upstairs showed a dull glow.

    The entrance door was a huge one made of massive, curiously shaped panels of oak studded with big iron nails and bound with great iron bars. It opened into an enormous hall, which was so dimly lighted that the faces in the portraits on the walls and the figures in the suits of armor made Mary feel that she did not want to look at them. As she stood on the stone floor she looked a very small, odd little black figure, and she felt as small and lost and odd as she looked.

    A neat, thin old man stood near the manservant who opened the door for them.

    You are to take her to her room, he said in a husky voice. He doesn't want to see her. He's going to London in the morning.

    Very well, Mr. Pitcher, Mrs. Medlock answered. So long as I know what's expected of me, I can manage.

    What's expected of you, Mrs. Medlock, Mr. Pitcher said, is that you make sure that he's not disturbed and that he doesn't see what he doesn't want to see.

    And then Mary Lennox was led up a broad staircase and down a long corridor and up a short flight of steps and through another corridor and another, until a door opened in a wall and she found herself in a room with a fire in it and a supper on a table.

    Mrs. Medlock said unceremoniously:

    Well, here you are! This room and the next are where you'll live--and you must keep to them. Don't you forget that!

    It was in this way Mistress Mary arrived at Misselthwaite Manor and she had perhaps never felt quite so contrary in all her life.

    Martha

    When she opened her eyes in the morning it was because a young housemaid had come into her room to light the fire and was kneeling on the hearth-rug raking out the cinders noisily. Mary lay and watched her for a few moments and then began to look about the room. She had never seen a room at all like it and thought it curious and gloomy. The walls were covered with tapestry with a forest scene embroidered on it. There were fantastically dressed people under the trees and in the distance there was a glimpse of the turrets of a castle. There were hunters and horses and dogs and ladies. Mary felt as if she were in the forest with them. Out of a deep window she could see a great climbing stretch of land which seemed to have no trees on it, and to look rather like an endless, dull, purplish sea.

    What is that? she said, pointing out of the window.

    Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. That there? she said.

    Yes.

    That's th' moor, with a good-natured grin. Does tha' like it?

    No, answered Mary. I hate it.

    That's because tha'rt not used to it, Martha said, going back to her hearth. Tha' thinks it's too big an' bare now. But tha' will like it.

    Do you? inquired Mary.

    Aye, that I do, answered Martha, cheerfully polishing away at the grate. I just love it. It's none bare. It's covered wi' growin' things as smells sweet. It's fair lovely in spring an' summer when th' gorse an' broom an' heather's in flower. It smells o' honey an' there's such a lot o' fresh air--an' th' sky looks so high an' th' bees an' skylarks makes such a nice noise hummin' an' singin'. Eh! I wouldn't live away from th' moor for anythin'.

    Mary listened to her with a grave, puzzled expression. The native servants she had been used to in India were not in the least like this. They were obsequious and servile and did not presume to talk to their masters as if they were their equals. They made salaams and called them protector of the poor and names of that sort. Indian servants were commanded to do things, not asked. It was not the custom to say please and thank you and Mary had always slapped her Ayah in the face when she was angry. She wondered a little what this girl would do if one slapped her in the face. She was a round, rosy, good-natured-looking creature, but she had a sturdy way which made Mistress Mary wonder if she might not even slap back--if the person who slapped her was only a little girl.

    You are a strange servant, she said from her pillows, rather haughtily.

    Martha sat up on her heels, with her blacking-brush in her hand, and laughed, without seeming the least out of temper.

    Eh! I know that, she said. If there was a grand Missus at Misselthwaite I should never have been even one of th' under house-maids. I might have been let to be scullerymaid but I'd never have been let upstairs. I'm too common an' I talk too much Yorkshire. But this is a funny house for all it's so grand. Seems like there's neither Master nor Mistress except Mr. Pitcher an' Mrs. Medlock. Mr. Craven, he won't be troubled about anythin' when he's here, an' he's nearly always away. Mrs. Medlock gave me th' place out o' kindness. She told me she could never have done it if Misselthwaite had been like other big houses. Are you going to be my servant? Mary asked, still in her imperious little Indian way.

    Martha began to rub her grate again.

    I'm Mrs. Medlock's servant, she said stoutly. An' she's Mr. Craven's--but I'm to do the housemaid's work up here an' wait on you a bit. But you won't need much waitin' on.

    Who is going to dress me? demanded Mary.

    Martha sat up on her heels again and stared. She spoke in broad Yorkshire in her amazement.

    Canna' tha' dress thysen! she said.

    What do you mean? I don't understand your language, said Mary.

    Eh! I forgot, Martha said. Mrs. Medlock told me I'd have to be careful or you wouldn't know what I was sayin'. I mean can't you put on your own clothes?

    No, answered Mary, quite indignantly. I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course.

    Well, said Martha, evidently not in the least aware that she was impudent, it's time tha' should learn. Tha' cannot begin younger. It'll do thee good to wait on thysen a bit. My mother always said she couldn't see why grand people's children didn't turn out fair fools--what with nurses an' bein' washed an' dressed an' took out to walk as if they was puppies!

    It is different in India, said Mistress Mary disdainfully. She could scarcely stand this.

    But Martha was not at all crushed.

    Eh! I can see it's different, she answered almost sympathetically. I dare say it's because there's such a lot o' blacks there instead o' respectable white people. When I heard you was comin' from India I thought you was a black too.

    Mary sat up in bed furious.

    What! she said. What! You thought I was a native. You--you daughter of a pig!

    Martha stared and looked hot.

    Who are you callin' names? she said. You needn't be so vexed. That's not th' way for a young lady to talk. I've nothin' against th' blacks. When you read about 'em in tracts they're always very religious. You always read as a black's a man an' a brother. I've never seen a black an' I was fair pleased to think I was goin' to see one close. When I come in to light your fire this mornin' I crep' up to your bed an' pulled th' cover back careful to look at you. An' there you was, disappointedly, no more black than me--for all you're so yeller.

    Mary did not even try to control her rage and humiliation. You thought I was a native! You dared! You don't know anything about natives! They are not people--they're servants who must salaam to you. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!

    She was in such a rage and felt so helpless before the girl's simple stare, and somehow she suddenly felt so horribly lonely and far away from everything she understood and which understood her, that she threw herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing. She sobbed so unrestrainedly that good-natured Yorkshire Martha was a little frightened and quite sorry for her. She went to the bed and bent over her.

    Eh! you mustn't cry like that there! she begged. You mustn't for sure. I didn't know you'd be vexed. I don't know anythin' about anythin'--just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss. Do stop cryin'.

    There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer Yorkshire speech and sturdy way which had a good effect on Mary. She gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.

    It's time for thee to get up now, she said. Mrs. Medlock said I was to carry tha' breakfast an' tea an' dinner into th' room next to this. It's been made into a nursery for thee. I'll help thee on with thy clothes if tha'll get out o' bed. If th' buttons are at th' back tha' cannot button them up tha'self.

    When Mary at last decided to get up, the clothes Martha took from the wardrobe were not the ones she had worn when she arrived the night before with Mrs. Medlock.

    Those are not mine, she said. Mine are black.

    She looked the thick white wool coat and dress over, and added with cool approval:

    Those are nicer than mine.

    These are th' ones tha' must put on, Martha answered. Mr. Craven ordered Mrs. Medlock to get 'em in London. He said `I won't have a child dressed in black wanderin' about like a lost soul,' he said. `It'd make the place sadder than it is. Put color on her.' Mother she said she knew what he meant. Mother always knows what a body means. She doesn't hold with black hersel'.

    I hate black things, said Mary.

    The dressing process was one which taught them both something. Martha had buttoned up her little sisters and brothers but she had never seen a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for her as if she had neither hands nor feet of her own.

    Why doesn't tha' put on tha' own shoes? she said when Mary quietly held out her foot.

    My Ayah did it, answered Mary, staring. It was the custom.

    She said that very often--It was the custom. The native servants were always saying it. If one told them to do a thing their ancestors had not done for a thousand years they gazed at one mildly and said, It is not the custom and one knew that was the end of the matter.

    It had not been the custom that Mistress Mary should do anything but stand and allow herself to be dressed like a doll, but before she was ready for breakfast she began to suspect that her life at Misselthwaite Manor would end by teaching her a number of things quite new to her--things such as putting on her own shoes and stockings, and picking up things she let fall. If Martha had been a well-trained fine young lady's maid she would have been more subservient and respectful and would have known that it was her business to brush hair, and button boots, and pick things up and lay them away. She was, however, only an untrained Yorkshire rustic who had been brought up in a moorland cottage with a swarm of little brothers and sisters who had never dreamed of doing anything but waiting on themselves and on the younger ones who were either babies in arms or just learning to totter about and tumble over things.

    If Mary Lennox had been a child who was ready to be amused she would perhaps have laughed at Martha's readiness to talk, but Mary only listened to her coldly and wondered at her freedom of manner. At first she was not at all interested, but gradually, as the girl rattled on in her good-tempered, homely way, Mary began to notice what she was saying.

    Eh! you should see 'em all, she said. There's twelve of us an' my father only gets sixteen shilling a week. I can tell you my mother's put to it to get porridge for 'em all. They tumble about on th' moor an' play there all day an' mother says th' air of th' moor fattens 'em. She says she believes they eat th' grass same as th' wild ponies do. Our Dickon, he's twelve years old and he's got a young pony he calls his own.

    Where did he get it? asked Mary.

    He found it on th' moor with its mother when it was a little one an' he began to make friends with it an' give it bits o' bread an' pluck young grass for it. And it got to like him so it follows him about an' it lets him get on its back. Dickon's a kind lad an' animals likes him.

    Mary had never possessed an animal pet of her own and had always thought she should like one. So she began to feel a slight interest in Dickon, and as she had never before been interested in any one but herself, it was the dawning of a healthy sentiment. When she went into the room which had been made into a nursery for her, she found that it was rather like the one she had slept in. It was not a child's room, but a grown-up person's room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs. A table in the center was set with a good substantial breakfast. But she had always had a very small appetite, and she looked with something more than indifference at the first plate Martha set before

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