The Secret Garden

by Frances Hodgson
Burnett

Chapter 1: Mary comes to England

Mary Lennox was born in India. When she was nine years old, her
mother and father died of cholera. Mary did not miss her mother very
much when she was gone. She had not seen or spoken to her very
much when she was alive.
Mary’s mother had not wanted a child at all. She had been very
beautiful, and she had only been interested in going to parties and
meeting people. Mary’s father was always busy with his work, too. So
when Mary was born, a servant looked after her. Her mother told the
servant to make sure that Mary did not cry or make too much noise.
So the servant always gave Mary whatever she asked for and Mary
quickly became a very difficult and selfish little girl.
Mary was a plain-looking child, too. She had a thin little face and
body, and she always looked cross.
Because Mary was such a selfish little girl, she only really thought
about herself. She wanted to know who would look after her now that
her parents had died. She hoped they would let her do what she
wanted.
At first, Mary went to stay with a family called the Crawfords, in
India. But Mary was so disagreeable that none of the Crawford
children wanted to play with her. After she had been there for a week,
one of the Crawfords’ little boys told her that she was going to go back
to England.
‘You are going to live with your uncle,’ the boy said. ‘He lives in a
great big old house in the country. He’s so cross, he won’t let people
come and see him. And no one would want to see him anyway. He’s
a hunchback, and he’s horrible.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Mary, and she turned her back and put her
fingers in her ears.

1
 But that night, Mrs Crawford told her that she would sail to England
in a few days’ time. She said that Mary would live with her uncle, Mr
Archibald Craven, at Misselthwaite Manor in Yorkshire.
‘Mary is such a plain child – and so disagreeable,’ said Mrs Crawford
afterwards. ‘And yet her mother was so pretty, and so delightful.
Perhaps if Mary’s mother had spent a little more time with her, she
might have learned to be delightful too. But most people didn’t even
know that she had a child.’
When Mary arrived in England, she was met in London by Mr
Craven’s housekeeper, Mrs Medlock. Mrs Medlock took Mary up to
Yorkshire by train. Mrs Medlock was a large woman, with very red
cheeks and sharp black eyes. She was not a very patient woman, and
she was not interested in young children.
Mary did not like Mrs Medlock at all. In the train, she sat as far as
possible from her, looking bored and unhappy. Her black dress made
her look more yellow than ever, and her hair hung down messily
underneath her hat.
‘I’ve never seen such a spoilt-looking child in my life,’ Mrs Medlock
thought to herself.
After a while, the housekeeper began to talk to Mary in a hard, sharp
voice.
‘I suppose I had better tell you something about where you are going
to,’ she said. She waited for Mary to reply, but Mary said nothing at
all. ‘It’s a very strange place,’ Mrs Medlock went on. ‘It’s big and
grand, of course, but very gloomy. The house is six hundred years old,
and it’s on the edge of the moor. There are nearly a hundred rooms,
with pictures and beautiful old furniture, but most of them are shut up
and locked. There’s a big park around the house, with gardens and big
trees. But there’s nothing else,’ she ended suddenly.
Mary had begun to listen. It all sounded very different from India, and
she liked new things. But she tried to look as if she wasn’t interested.
‘I certainly don’t know why you’re going there,’ Mrs Medlock went
on. ‘Mr Craven’s not going to look after you, I’m sure about that. He
doesn’t care about anyone. He has a crooked back. That gave him a
2
 bad start in life. He was a cross young man and he didn’t do any good
until he got married.’
Mary looked up. She had not known that Mr Craven was married, and
she was surprised. Mrs Medlock saw that Mary was interested, and
went on talking.
‘His wife was a sweet, pretty thing. He’d have done anything for her.
People said she only married him for his money, but that’s not true.
Then she died, and he became stranger than ever. He doesn’t care
about anyone now. Most of the time he goes away. But when he is at
Misselthwaite, he shuts himself up and won’t see anyone. You
probably won’t see him at all. And there won’t be anyone to talk to
you. You will have to play on your own. I’ll tell you which rooms you
can go into. But you mustn’t go walking all around the house. Mr
Craven wouldn’t like it.’
Listening to Mrs Medlock did not make Mary feel very happy. A
house with a hundred rooms, nearly all shut up and locked. A man
with a crooked back who shut himself up too! She stared out of the
window of the train and that made her feel even more gloomy, because
it had started to rain. She watched the grey sky grow heavier and
heavier, and then she fell asleep.
When Mary woke up, she and Mrs Medlock ate some lunch, but she
soon fell asleep once more. When she woke again, the train had
stopped at a station and Mrs Medlock was shaking her.
‘Wake up!’ she said. ‘We’ve arrived.’
Mary watched as Mrs Medlock collected up their bags. She did not
help, because she was not used to helping. In India, servants had
always done everything for her. Then Mary followed Mrs Medlock
through the station and outside, where a carriage was waiting. Mary
climbed in, and they set off. She felt curious about where they were
going.
‘What is a moor?’ she asked suddenly.
‘Look out of the window and you’ll see,’ Mrs Medlock replied.
Mary looked out of the window. They were on a rough road, with
bushes and low-growing things on both sides. Beyond that, all she

3
 could see was darkness stretching out all around them. The wind was
making a strange low sound.
‘Is it the sea?’ Mary asked.
‘No,’ replied Mrs Medlock. ‘And it’s not fields or mountains, either.
It’s just miles and miles of wild land. The only things that grow there
are heather and gorse. And the only things that live there are wild
ponies and sheep.’
‘It sounds just like the sea,’ said Mary.
‘That’s the sound of the wind blowing through the bushes,’ said Mrs
Medlock. ‘I think it’s a dull, wild place. But plenty of people like it.’
They drove on through the darkness, until at last Mary saw a light in
the distance. Mrs Medlock saw it at the same time.
‘We’re nearly there now,’ she said.
At last the carriage pulled up in front of a long, low-built house. Most
of it was in darkness, but there was a light in one of the upstairs rooms.
Mary followed Mrs Medlock through the large wooden front door into
the hall. It was a very large room, and the walls were covered with
paintings of people who had lived a long time ago. But it was so dark
in the hall that Mary found it quite frightening to look at the paintings.
She suddenly felt very small and lost.
‘I’ll take you to your room now,’ said Mrs Medlock. She led Mary up
some stairs, down a long corridor, up some more stairs and along two
more corridors. Then she opened a door into a room. There was a fire
burning in the room, and there was some dinner on the table.
‘Here you are,’ said Mrs Medlock. ‘You will live here, and in the room
next door. And you must stay in these rooms. Don’t forget that!’
And that is how Mary began her life at Misselthwaite Manor.

Chapter 2: Robin Redbreast

When Mary opened her eyes in the morning, there was a young servant
girl cleaning out the fireplace in her room. Mary lay and watched her
for a few moments and then looked around the room. It was not like a
child’s room at all. It was strange and gloomy, and there were no toys
or books. There was a large window, and through it Mary could see a
4
 huge area of land climbing up into the distance. There were no trees
on it, and it looked like an endless, purple sea.
‘What is that?’ Mary asked, pointing out of the window.
‘That’s the moor,’ said Martha, the young servant girl, standing up
and looking out. ‘Do you like it?’
‘No,’ answered Mary. ‘I hate it.’
‘That’s because you’re not used to it,’ Martha said cheerfully, turning
back to her work. ‘Wait till spring and summer, when the gorse and
heather are in flower. Then it smells like honey. The sky looks so high,
and the bees and the birds make such a noise humming and singing.
Then you’ll like it.’
Martha was a round, red-cheeked, cheerful-looking person. She spoke
with a strong Yorkshire accent, and Mary listened to her in surprise.
She was not at all like the servants Mary had had in India. They always
did everything Mary wanted and if they disobeyed her she hit them in
the face. Martha did not talk to Mary like she was an important person.
But Martha was quite a strong-looking girl and Mary thought that if
she hit Martha, Martha might possibly hit her back.
‘Are you going to be my servant?’ Mary asked Martha, in her proud,
unfriendly way.
‘I’m Mrs Medlock’s servant,’ said Martha. ‘But I shall clean your
room, and bring you your meals.’
‘Who is going to dress me?’ asked Mary.
Martha sat up and stared at Mary.
‘Can’t you dress yourself?’ she asked, amazed.
‘No,’ answered Mary, crossly. ‘I’ve never dressed myself. My
servants always did it.’
‘Well,’ said Martha. ‘It’s time you learnt to do it yourself.’
Mary began to feel horribly lonely and very far away from everything
she knew. Suddenly she threw herself down on the bed and started to
cry so loudly that Martha felt a little frightened. She also felt quite
sorry for Mary. She went to the bed and stood next to her.
‘Eh, you mustn’t cry like that,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Miss. Do stop
crying.’

5
 Mary slowly stopped crying and became quiet. Martha looked
relieved.
‘It’s time for you to get up now,’ the maid said. ‘Your breakfast is
ready next door. If you get out of bed, I’ll help you put your clothes
on.’
Martha chattered away as she helped Mary to get dressed. Mary
listened coldly at first, but slowly she began to be interested.
‘There are twelve children in our house, and there’s never enough food
for all of them,’ said Martha. ‘They run and play on the moor all day.
Mother says the fresh air of the moor fattens them up. She thinks they
must eat grass, just likethe ponies! Our Dickon, he’s twelve years old
and he’s found a young pony to play with.’
‘Where did he get it?’ asked Mary.
‘He found it on the moor with its mother when it was little,’ Martha
told her. ‘He started to make friends with it and give it bits of bread.
And now it follows him around and lets him get on its back. Dickon’s
a kind boy and the animals like him.’
Mary had always thought it would be nice to have a pet animal. So she
started to feel a little interested in Dickon. And that was a strange
feeling for her. She had only ever been interested in herself before.
When Mary went into the room next door, there was a large breakfast
laid out on the table. But she had never eaten much, and when Martha
put a plate in front of her she pushed it away.
‘I don’t want it,’ she said.
‘Don’t want it?’ cried Martha, shocked. ‘If our children were here,
they’d eat all this up in five minutes.’
‘Why?’ asked Mary coldly.
‘Why?’ repeated Martha. ‘Because they’ve never had full stomachs in
their lives. They’re as hungry as foxes.’
Mary didn’t know what it was like to be hungry. She drank some tea
and ate a little bit of toast.
‘Now put some warm clothes on and go out and play,’ said Martha.
‘It’ll be good for you.’
‘Who will go with me?’ Mary asked.

6
 Martha stared at her.
‘You’ll go by yourself,’ she answered. ‘You’ll have to learn to play
by yourself, like other children. Our Dickon goes off on the moor by
himself for hours and hours. That’s how he made friends with the
pony. There are sheep on the moor that know him, and birds come and
eat out of his hand. He always saves a bit of bread for them.’
Mary thought for a moment. There wouldn’t be ponies or sheep in the
garden, but there might be birds. And they would probably be different
from the ones in India. It might be interesting to look at them. And
there was certainly nothing to do indoors.
Martha found Mary’s coat and hat and a pair of little boots, and
showed her the way downstairs.
‘If you go that way, you’ll come to the gardens,’ she said, pointing to
a gate. ‘There are lots of flowers there in the summer, but they’re
rather bare right now.’
After a moment, she added, ‘One of the gardens is locked up. No one
has been in it for ten years.’
‘Why?’ asked Mary. Normally she didn’t like to show that she was
interested. But this sounded very strange.
‘Mr Craven had it shut when his wife died so suddenly. He won’t let
anyone go inside. It was her garden. He locked the door and buried
the key.’
At that moment, they heard a bell ring.
‘Mrs Medlock’s calling me,’ said Martha, and she went inside.
After Martha had gone, Mary went out into the gardens. There were
wide lawns, trees and flower beds, and a large pool with an old grey
fountain in the middle. But the flower beds were bare, and the fountain
was not playing. Mary could not stop thinking about the locked garden.
‘What would it look like now?’ she wondered. ‘Would the flowers still
be alive?’
At the end of the path Mary was following, she saw a long wall with
a green door in it. She went through the door and found herself in a
walled garden. There were some fruit trees growing against the wall,
and a few beds of winter vegetables, but otherwise it was bare. A

7
 doorway led from there into another walled garden, and there were
several more beyond. Mary walked through the gardens until she came
to an orchard – a garden full of fruit trees. The walls seemed to go
beyond the orchard, as if there was a garden on the other side. But
there was no door in the orchard wall. Mary could see the tops of trees
above the wall. As she looked up she saw a bird with a bright red
breast sitting on top of one of the trees. Suddenly he started to sing his
winter song, as if he had just noticed her and was calling to her.
The bird’s cheerful little song gave Mary a pleasant feeling. The big
closed house and bare moor had made Mary feel as if she was all alone
in this world. But this little bird almost made her smile. She listened
to him until he flew away. Then she started to walk back towards the
first walled garden. She kept thinking about the locked garden,
probably because she had nothing else to do. Then she thought of the
little bird with the red breast, and suddenly she stopped.
‘I think he was on a tree in the secret garden,’ she said to herself. ‘I’m
sure he was. There was a wall around the place, and there was no
door.’
She had reached the door to the first walled garden by now. As she
came into it, she noticed that an old man was now digging in the
corner. He looked up as she came in, and nodded at her. He had an
unfriendly face, and did not look pleased to see her. She walked over
and stood watching him in her cold little way. He did not look up
again, so at last she spoke to him.
‘I can’t find the door into the other garden,’ she said.
‘What garden?’ the man said in a rough voice. He stopped digging for
a moment.
‘The one behind the orchard,’ answered Mary. ‘There were trees there.
I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of
them, and he sang.’
To Mary’s surprise, the gardener suddenly smiled. He turned around
and whistled softly. Then a wonderful thing happened. The bird with
the red breast came flying over to them, and landed on the earth near
the gardener’s foot.

8
 ‘Here he is,’ laughed the old man. ‘Where have you been, you cheeky
thing?’
The bird looked up at him with his soft black eye. He didn’t seem at
all frightened. He hopped about, looking for insects.
‘What kind of bird is he?’ Mary asked.
‘Don’t you know?’ the old man replied. ‘He’s a robin redbreast.
They’re the friendliest birds of all. I’ve
known this one since he was a baby. His brothers and sisters flew
away, and he was lonely.
Mary went a little nearer to the robin and looked at him very hard.
‘I’m lonely,’ she said. She suddenly realized that this was one of the
things that made her feel so cross all the time.
The old gardener stared at her for a minute.
‘Are you the little girl from India?’ he asked.
Mary nodded. ‘What is your name?’ she asked.
‘Ben Weatherstaff,’ he answered. Then he said, with a little laugh,
‘I’m lonely too. That robin’s the only friend I’ve got.’
‘I don’t have any friends at all,’ said Mary. ‘I’ve never played with
anyone.’
‘You’re probably a little bit like me,’ said old Ben Weatherstaff.
‘Neither of us are good-looking. And we’re both as cross as we look.
I expect you’ve probably got a horrible temper like me, too.’
No one had ever talked to Mary like that before.
‘Do I really look as cross as Ben Weatherstaff?’ she thought to herself.
‘And do I have a horrible temper?’ She felt rather uncomfortable.
Suddenly they both looked up. The robin had flown onto an apple tree
close to Mary, and had started singing. Ben Weatherstaff laughed.
‘He’s decided to make friends with you,’ said Ben. ‘He likes you!’
Mary moved carefully towards the tree, and looked up.
‘Would you make friends with me?’ she asked the robin. But she did
not say it in her hard little voice. She spoke softly and gently.
At that moment, the robin stopped singing, shook his wings and flew
away.

9
 ‘He has flown over the wall!’ cried Mary, watching him. ‘He has
flown across the orchard into the locked garden.’
‘He lives there,’ said old Ben. ‘He lives there, among the rose-trees.’
‘Are there rose-trees? I’d like to see them,’ said Mary. ‘Where is the
door to the garden?’
Ben suddenly became cold and unfriendly once more.
‘There isn’t a door,’ he said roughly. ‘There was ten years ago, but
there isn’t now. Now go and play. I’ve got to work.’
And he picked up his spade and walked away. He didn’t even look at
Mary or say goodbye.

Chapter 3: Mary finds the key

For the first week or two, every day was exactly the same for Mary.
There was nothing for her to do indoors, so after breakfast she went
out into the gardens. The wind, which blew down from the moor,
was strong and cold. Mary had to run to keep herself warm. She did
not know that this was good for her. She did not know that the fresh
air was making her thin body stronger and bringing some red colour
into her cheeks.
For the first few days, Mary had not eaten the breakfast Martha
brought her. But one morning, after several days of running around
outside, she woke up with a strange feeling. She realized that for the
first time in her life she felt hungry. When Martha brought her
breakfast that day, she picked up her spoon and started eating it. And
she went on eating until it had all gone.
‘The fresh air of the moor is making you hungry,’ said Martha. ‘If
you play outside every day you’ll get bigger and stronger.’
‘I don’t play,’ said Mary. ‘I have nothing to play with.’
‘Nothing to play with!’ cried Martha. ‘Our children play with sticks
and stones. They just run about and shout and look at things.’
Mary did not shout, but she did look at things. She walked round and
round the gardens and the park. Sometimes she looked for Ben

10
 Weatherstaff, but he was always too busy or too unfriendly to talk to
her.
There was one place that Mary went to more than anywhere else. It
was the long walk outside the kitchen gardens. The walls there were
covered with ivy. In one part the ivy was so thick it looked as if no
one had cut it for years. One morning, Mary was looking at the ivy
and thinking about this, when she heard a loud twitter up above. She
looked up and saw the robin sitting on a treetop.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ Mary laughed happily. The first time Mary had seen
the robin, he had been sitting on a treetop and she had been standing
in the orchard. But looking at him now, she realized that he was
sitting on top of the same tree. She looked up at the ivy-covered
wall.
‘The robin’s in the secret garden again,’ she said to herself. ‘And this
must be the back wall of the garden.’
Mary ran up to the green door she had gone through the first
morning. Then she ran down through the kitchen gardens into the
orchard, and looked up above the wall. Sure enough, there was the
robin sitting on the treetop. Mary walked along, looking closely at
the orchard wall, but there was no door. Then she ran back out to the
long ivy-covered wall and looked at that side carefully, too. But
there was no door there either.
‘It’s very strange,’ she said to herself. ‘Ben Weatherstaff said there
was no door, and he’s right. But there must have been a door ten
years ago, because Mr Craven buried the key.’
Mary began to feel very interested in the secret garden. One evening
after supper, she sat down in front of the fire and asked Martha a
question.
‘Why did Mr Craven hate the garden?’ she said.
‘Are you still thinking about that garden?’ said Martha. She came
and sat down next to Mary. It was a windy night. There was a low
roaring noise as the wind rushed around the house. It beat against the
walls and windows.

11
 ‘Mrs Medlock says no one should talk about it,’ Martha said. ‘If it
wasn’t for that garden, Mr Craven wouldn’t be like he is. It was Mrs
Craven’s garden, and she just loved it. They used to look after it
themselves. None of the gardeners were allowed to go in it. Mr and
Mrs Craven sat there for hours and hours, reading and talking. There
was an old tree with a big branch, and Mrs Craven liked to sit on the
branch. But one day when she was sitting on it, the branch broke.
She fell to the ground and she was hurt very badly. The next day she
died. The doctors thought Mr Craven would go mad and die too. And
that’s why he hates the garden. No one has been inside since, and no
one is allowed to talk about it.’
All at once Mary felt sorry for Mr Craven. It was the first time she
had ever felt sorry for anyone before, and it was a strange feeling.
She sat thinking about what Martha had said. Suddenly she realized
she could hear a noise. It was a strange sound, as if a child was
crying. It was a long way away, but she was sure that it was inside
the house. She turned round and looked at Martha.
‘Can you hear someone crying?’ she said.
Martha suddenly looked confused. ‘It’s just the wind,’ she replied
quickly. ‘The wind makes such strange noises. Sometimes it sounds
as if someone is lost on the moor.’
But Martha seemed worried about something. Mary stared at her.
She was sure that the noise she had heard was not the wind. She did
not believe that Martha was telling the truth.
It rained for the next few days, and Mary could not go outside. But
one morning she woke and sat up in bed immediately.
‘Look at the moor! Look at the moor!’ she called to Martha.
The rain had stopped and the wind had blown the clouds away.
There was a deep blue sky high above the moor. Mary had never
seen such a blue sky.
‘Yes,’ said Martha cheerfully. ‘The spring is coming.’
‘I thought perhaps it always rained or looked dark in England,’ Mary
said.

12
 ‘Oh no,’ replied Martha. ‘Yorkshire’s the sunniest place on earth
when it’s sunny. Just wait till the gorse turns gold and the heather
flowers. Then the heather looks like purple bells, and it’s full of
butterflies. You’ll want to get out there first thing in the morning and
stay out there all day, just like our Dickon!’
Martha went on cleaning out the fireplace. ‘I’m going across the
moor today,’ she said. ‘It’s my day off and I’m going home to see
my mother. Oh, I am glad!’
Mary had started to rather enjoy listening to Martha talk about her
family. She especially liked to hear about Martha’s mother and
Dickon. When Martha told stories about what ‘Mother’ had done,
they always sounded comfortable.
‘I think I like your mother,’ said Mary.
‘Everyone likes my mother,’ Martha replied. ‘She’s so sensible and
hard-working, and friendly and clean.’
‘I like Dickon too,’ said Mary. ‘And I’ve never seen him.’
Well,’ said Martha, ’I’ve told you that the birds and the sheep and
ponies like
him … He’s even got a little fox cub that he keeps at home. And a
crow that flies about with him everywhere. Everyone likes Dickon,
even the animals.’
After Martha had gone home, Mary felt lonelier than ever. She went
out and ran round and round the fountain. And after that she felt a
little better. Then she went into the kitchen garden and found Ben
Weatherstaff working there. Even he seemed more cheerful on this
beautiful morning.
‘Springtime’s coming,’ he said. ‘Things are beginning to happen in
the flower gardens, down there in the dark. You’ll see bits of green
starting to stick out of the earth soon.’
‘What will they be?’ asked Mary.
‘Crocuses and snowdrops and daffodils,’ said Ben. ‘You watch them.
They’ll grow a little bit more every day.’
At that moment, the robin flew down and hopped around near
Mary’s feet.

13
 ‘Do you think he remembers me?’ she asked Ben Weatherstaff.
‘Of course he does!’ he replied. ‘He’s never seen a little girl in the
garden before, and he’s trying to find out all about you.’
As Mary slowly walked away, she was thinking. She had begun to
like the garden. And she had begun to like the robin, and Dickon,
and Martha’s mother. She was starting to like Martha, too. That felt
like a lot of people for someone who had never really liked anyone
before.
Mary went and walked in her favourite place, behind the long ivy-
covered wall at the back of the kitchen gardens. And that was when
the most interesting and exciting thing happened to her. She heard a
twitter, looked down and saw the robin. He was hopping about on
the earth. She knew that he had followed her, and she felt so pleased
that she trembled a little.
‘You do remember me!’ she cried. ‘You do!’
The robin hopped among the bushes in the flower-bed. A dog had
been digging a hole there, and the robin stopped to look for a worm
in the earth. As Mary watched the robin, she noticed an old metal
ring half-buried in the earth where the dog had been digging. When
the robin flew up into a tree nearby, she reached down and picked
the ring up. But it wasn’t just a ring. It was an old key, and it looked
as if it had been buried for a long time.
Mary stood up and looked at it. She felt almost frightened. ‘Perhaps
it has been buried for ten years,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Perhaps it is
the key to the garden!’ Suddenly she felt very excited. What would
the garden look like now, after being shut up for so many years? If
she could find the door, she could go into it every day. Nobody
would know where she was. She liked that idea very much.
Mary put the key in her pocket and walked slowly up and down
beside the wall. But the only thing she
could see was thick ivy. She felt disappointed. But she decided to
keep the key in her pocket. Then if she did find the hidden door, she
would be ready.

14
 Chapter 4: Inside the Secret Garden
The next day, Martha was back at work. She was full of excitement
about her visit home.
‘When I’d helped Mother with all the baking and the washing I made
the children a little cake,’ she told Mary. ‘And when they came in from
playing on the moor, they just shouted for joy. And in the evening we
all sat around the fire, and I told them all about you. They wanted to
know all about the ship you sailed on from India! But Mother does
worry about you all alone in a big place like this.’
Martha went on chattering about her day at home until she had
finished tidying away Mary’s breakfast things. Then she went back to
the kitchen, and Mary put on her coat and hat and went outside into
the gardens. She went to her special walk, and immediately noticed
the robin hopping around at the bottom of the wall. When she saw
him, she laughed.
‘You showed me where the key was yesterday,’ she said. ‘You should
really show me where the door is today. But I don’t believe you
know!’
The robin flew up onto the top of the wall and twittered loudly. What
happened next really was very strange.
Mary had stepped forwards close to the robin, and at that moment a
strong wind suddenly blew, lifting some of the ivy from the wall.
Underneath, Mary saw a round knob which had been covered by
leaves. It was the knob of a door.
Mary put her hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them
away. Her heart started beating hard, and her hands trembled a little
with excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering, as if he was
excited too. Mary could feel a metal hole.
It was the lock of the door which had been closed for ten years. Mary
still had the key in her pocket, and she took it out and tried to put it in
the hole. It fitted. Then she turned the key. It was difficult, and she
had to use both hands. But the key turned.
Mary looked behind her, but there was no one coming. She took a deep
breath and slowly pushed back the door. Then she went through the
15
 door and shut it behind her. She was breathing fast with excitement
and delight.
She was standing inside the secret garden! It was a lovely, mysterious-
looking place. The high walls around it were covered with thick
climbing roses. There were trees in the garden, and the climbing roses
had run all over them. In places, the roses had grown from one tree to
another and made lovely bridges. There were no leaves or roses on
them now, just thin brown branches. But the way they hung from tree
to tree looked so mysterious. It was different from any other place
Mary had ever seen.
‘How still it is!’ Mary whispered to herself. Even the robin, who had
flown to his treetop, was still. He sat watching her.
Mary looked up at one of the mysterious curtains of roses.
‘Are they all completely dead?’ she wondered. ‘I hope not.’
She did not want it to be a dead garden. If it were alive, how wonderful
it would be.
As Mary walked around the garden, she felt as if she had found a world
that was all her own. The robin flew down from his treetop and went
from one bush to another. He twittered loudly, as if he were showing
her things. In one of the corners of the garden, Mary could see that
there had once been a flowerbed. And sticking out of the earth there,
she could see some green shoots. She remembered what Ben
Weatherstaff had said, and she bent down to look at them.
‘Yes,’ she whispered to herself. ‘They are tiny growing things, and
they might be crocuses or snowdrops or daffodils.’
All around the garden, Mary found lots more green shoots coming up
out of the earth. She was feeling excited again.
‘It isn’t a dead garden,’ she cried out softly to herself. ‘Even if the
roses are dead, there are other things that are alive.’
Mary did not know anything about gardening. But in some places the
grass was very thick and the green shoots did not seem to have enough
room to grow. Mary found a sharp piece of wood and dug away the
weeds and the grass.

16
 ‘Now they look as if they can breathe,’ said Mary, after she had
finished the first ones. She enjoyed herself so much that she went on
digging, all around the garden, making space around the green shoots.
When it was time for lunch, she realized that she had been working
for two or three hours. And she had felt happy all the time.
When Mary came in for lunch, Martha was delighted to see that she
had bright red cheeks and bright eyes.
‘Mother will be so pleased,’ she said. ‘She said you must stay outside
as much as possible. And now look at the colour in your face!’
‘I wish I had a little spade,’ Mary said to Martha.
‘What do you want a spade for?’ asked Martha, laughing.
Mary thought for a moment. She had to be careful. If Mr Craven found
out about the open door, he would probably get a new key and lock it up
for ever. And that would be terrible.
‘If I had a little spade,’ Mary told her, ‘I could do some digging like Ben
Weatherstaff. Perhaps I could make a little garden and plant some seeds
in it.’
‘Well,’ said Martha, thinking for a moment. ‘I saw a nice little spade
and fork in the shop in Thwaite last week. They sell flower seeds there
too. Our Dickon often walks over to Thwaite. He knows all about
planting seeds. Why don’t we write him a letter? We can ask him to
go and buy the spade and fork and some seeds at the same time.’
‘Oh, yes, let’s do that!’ cried Mary, excited.
So that afternoon, Martha and Mary wrote a letter to Dickon. Mary
had some money which Mrs Medlock had given her from Mr Craven.
She put some of the money in the envelope with the letter, and gave it to
Martha to send.

Chapter 5: Dickon
It rained for nearly a week, but Mary was happy when she was in her
secret garden. During the week, Mary didn’t see Ben Weatherstaff
much. One day, she saw him and decided to ask him what flowers he
would plant in a garden. He told her that he would plant poppies.
Later, Mary went for a walk. She was sitting under a tree when she
17
 met Dickon. He was playing a wooden pipe and there were two
squirrels watching him from a branch in the tree.
Mary and Dickon talked and Mary showed him the secret garden. He
told her that all the roses were dead and Mary was sad. Dickon helped
Mary in the garden, but then he had to go to dinner. Mary went back
to the house and Martha told her that Mr Craven wanted to see her.
Mr Craven spoke to Mary. She then told Mr Craven that she wanted to
plant some seeds and watch them grow. He said she could and that he
would be at home all summer. When she went back to the garden, Dickon
was there.
The sun shone down for nearly a week on the secret garden. Mary
loved the feeling that when she shut the door, no one knew where she
was. Every day, she found more green shoots. They seemed to be
coming up everywhere. Mary worked hard digging and pulling up
weeds until the shoots had nice clear spaces around them. And the
more she worked, the more she enjoyed herself.
During that week, Mary saw Ben Weatherstaff a lot.
He seemed happier to talk to her now. One day, when he seemed to be
in a particularly good mood, Mary decided to ask him a question.
‘If you wanted to make a flower garden,’ she said, ‘what would you
plant?’
‘Sweet-smelling things – but mostly roses,’ Ben Weatherstaff replied.
‘Do you like roses?’ Mary asked.
Ben dug up a weed before he answered. ‘Well, yes, I do,’ he said. ‘A
young lady taught me about roses. She had a lot of them in a place she
liked. And she loved them like children. But that was ten years ago
now.’
‘Where is she now?’ asked Mary.
‘She died,’ Ben answered, digging his spade hard into the earth.
‘What happened to the roses? Did they die too?’ asked Mary, more
interested than ever.
‘Well, I liked them – and I liked her. So every year I used to go and
work on them a bit, cutting them back and weeding around them. And
some of them lived.’
18
 ‘When they have no leaves and look grey and brown and dry, how can
you tell whether they are dead or alive?’ asked Mary.
‘Look along the branches, and if you see some brown lumps,’ Ben
Weatherstaff replied, ‘watch them after the rain.’ Suddenly he stopped
digging and looked curiously at Mary’s excited face. ‘Why do you
care so much about roses all of a sudden?’ he asked.
Mary felt her face grow red. She was almost afraid to answer.
‘I – I want to say that – that I have a garden of my own,’ she said.
‘There is nothing for me to do. I – I have nothing – and no one.’
‘Well,’ said Ben Weatherstaff slowly. ‘That’s true.’
He said it in a strange way, and Mary thought he was perhaps feeling
sorry for her. She had never felt sorry for herself. She had only felt
tired and cross. But now the world seemed to be changing and getting
nicer. She realized that she had found another person that she liked.
She liked old Ben Weatherstaff, even though he was often so cross.
After Mary had finished talking to Ben, she walked down the long
walk at the back of the secret garden. She decided to go up to the wood
at the edge of the gardens, and look for rabbits. But as she got near to
the wood, she heard a strange low whistling sound. Then she saw a
very strange sight.
A boy was sitting under a tree, playing on a rough wooden pipe. He
was a funny-looking boy, and he was about twelve. His nose turned
up, his cheeks were as red as poppies, and he had round, blue eyes. A
brown squirrel was watching him from a branch of the tree. And
nearby two rabbits seemed to be listening to the noise of his pipe.
When the boy saw Mary, he held up his hand and spoke to her in a
low voice.
‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘It will frighten them away.’
Mary stood still. The boy stopped playing his pipe and began to get
up very carefully. He moved so slowly, it was as if he wasn’t moving
at all. At last he stood up. The rabbits hopped away, and the squirrel
ran back up the tree, but they didn’t seem at all frightened.

19
 ‘I’m Dickon,’ the boy said. ‘And I know you are Miss Mary. I’ve
brought you a fork and a spade. They’re really good ones! And I’ve
got you some nice seeds, too.’
He had a wide, red mouth and his smile went right across his face.
Mary knew nothing about boys, and she felt rather shy.
‘Will you show the seeds to me?’ she said.
When she came closer to him, she noticed that he had a clean fresh
smell of heather, grass and leaves. It was a nice smell. And when she
looked into his funny face with the red cheeks and the blue eyes, she
forgot that she was feeling shy.
Dickon took out some small paper bags.
‘There are lots of poppies, look,’ he said. ‘They’ll grow wherever you
throw the seeds.’
He stopped and turned his head quickly.
‘There’s a robin calling us,’ he said. And sure enough they heard a
loud twitter from the bushes. Dickon turned towards Mary. ‘Does he
know you?’ he asked.
‘He knows me a little,’ said Mary. ‘Is he really calling us?’
‘Oh, yes,’ laughed Dickon. He moved closer to the bushes, and made
a sound almost like the robin’s own twitter. The robin twittered back
as if it were answering a question.
‘Oh yes, he’s a friend of yours,’ said Dickon. ‘I can see that!’
‘Do you understand everything birds say?’ said Mary.
‘I think I do, and they think I do,’ Dickon smiled. ‘Sometimes I think
perhaps I am a bird, or a fox or a rabbit!’
He laughed, and started telling Mary about the seeds once more. ‘Why
don’t I come and plant them for you?’ he said. ‘Where’s your garden?’
Mary said nothing. Her face turned red and then pale.
‘Didn’t they give you a bit of garden?’ said Dickon.
Mary looked at him.
‘I don’t know anything about boys,’ she said slowly. ‘Could you keep
a secret, if I told you one? It’s a big secret. I think if anyone found out,
I would die!’

20
 ‘I’m keeping secrets all the time,’ said Dickon. ‘If I told all the other
boys about birds’ nests and foxes’ cubs and things, nothing on the
moor would be safe.’
Mary said nothing for a moment. Then she made up her mind.
‘I’ve stolen a garden,’ she said, very fast. ‘Nobody wants it. Perhaps
everything in it is dead already. I don’t know. But they can’t take it
away from me! They can’t!’ She felt hot and cross again.
‘Where is it?’ asked Dickon gently.
Come with me and I’ll show you,’ Mary said, getting up. And she led
Dickon to the ivy-covered wall and took him through the door into the
secret garden.
‘Here it is,’ she said. ‘It’s a secret garden. And I’m the only one in the
world who wants it to be alive.’
Dickon looked all around. He breathed out in surprise.
‘Well,’ he almost whispered. ‘What a strange and pretty place. It’s like
walking into a dream.’
For two or three minutes, he stood looking around him while Mary
watched him. Then he began to walk softly around.
‘I never thought I’d see this place,’ he whispered at last. ‘Martha told
me there was a garden that no one went into. We used to wonder what
it was like.’
‘Will there be roses?’ Mary whispered. ‘I thought perhaps they were
all dead.’
‘No, not all of them,’ Dickon answered. ‘Look here!’
He walked over to one of the branches and took out his knife. There
were lots of shoots on the branch, and most of them were hard, dry-
grey. But one was brownish-green.
‘This here is a new bit,’ said Dickon, pointing at it. ‘It’s as alive as
you or me.’
‘Oh, I am glad!’ cried Mary.
They went from tree to tree and from bush to bush. Dickon was very
strong and clever with his knife. He knew how to cut the dead wood
away. And he knew when a branch still had green life in it. He showed

21
 Mary how to use the fork, and they went around the garden digging
and pulling out weeds.
‘There’s a lot of work to do here!’ said Dickon, looking around
happily.
‘Will you come again and help me do it?’ Mary said. ‘Oh, do come,
Dickon!’
‘I’ll come every day if you want me to,’ he answered. ‘But I don’t
want it to look like a gardener’s garden. It’s nice like this, with the
roses all running wild. I wouldn’t like it all neat and tidy, would you?’
‘Let’s not make it tidy,’ said Mary. ‘It wouldn’t be a secret garden if
it was tidy.’
Dickon stood rubbing his head for a moment.
‘It is a secret garden,’ he said, ‘but someone else must have been in
here since it was shut up ten years ago.’
‘But the door was locked and the key was buried,’ said Mary. ‘No one
could get in.’
‘That’s true,’ said Dickon. ‘But I think someone’s cut back these roses
a bit in the last ten years.’ As he started digging again, he leant forward
to smell the freshly-turned earth. ‘Oh, when there are things growing,
and birds singing and whistling, it makes me feel good.’
They worked harder and more happily than ever. Mary was sorry
when she realized it was dinner time.
‘I shall have to go,’ she said sadly. She didn’t want to leave Dickon.
It all seemed too much like a dream. She couldn’t believe that he
would really be there when she came back.
‘You – you would never tell?’ she asked Dickon.
‘Imagine you were a thrush and you showed me your nest. Do you think
I’d tell anyone?’ Dickon smiled. ‘Not me. You’re as safe as a thrush.’
When she got inside, Mary told Martha all about meeting Dickon. But
she was very careful. She didn’t say anything about the secret garden.
Then she ate her dinner as quickly as possible. She was getting ready
to go outside again when Martha stopped her.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Martha said. ‘Mr Craven came back
this morning and he wants to see you.’
22
 Mary turned pale.
‘Why? Why does he want to see me?’ she asked.
‘Mrs Medlock says that my mother saw him in the village yesterday,’
said Martha. ‘And she said something to him but I don’t know what
she said. He’s going away again tomorrow. He probably won’t come
back again until the autumn or winter. And he wants to see you before
he goes. Mrs Medlock is going to come and get you in a minute.’
Mr Craven was sitting in a chair in front of the fire. He was not really
a hunchback, but he had high, slightly crooked shoulders. His black
hair was white in places.
‘This is Miss Mary, sir,’ said Mrs Medlock.
‘You can leave her here,’ said Mr Craven, and he looked over his
shoulder at Mary. ‘Come here!’ he said, as Mrs Medlock left the room
.
He was not ugly. But his face was miserable, and he looked worried.
‘Are you well?’ he asked Mary. ‘You are very thin.’
‘I am getting fatter,’ said Mary, in her stiff little voice.
‘I forgot you,’ he said. ‘I should have got you a teacher, but I forgot.’
What an unhappy face he had! His black eyes hardly seemed to see
Mary. It was as if they were seeing something else.
‘Please,’ said Mary. ‘Please don’t make me have a teacher yet.’
‘That’s what Mrs Sowerby said,’ said Mr Craven. ‘Martha’s mother.
I met her yesterday, and she was worried about you. She said you
should play outside. She thought you should get stronger before you
have a teacher.’
‘I want to play outside,’ Mary answered. She tried to stop her voice
trembling. ‘It makes me feel strong when I play in the wind from the
moor.’
Mr Craven was watching her.
‘Where do you play?’ he asked.
‘Everywhere,’ said Mary quietly. ‘I run around, and look for things
growing up out of the earth. I don’t do anything wrong.’
‘Don’t look so frightened,’ said Mr Craven in a worried voice. ‘You
may do what you like. I am not good at looking after children. I am

23
 too ill and I have too many things to think about. But I want you to be
happy and comfortable. Play outside as much as you like. You can go
anywhere you like. Is there anything you want?’ he added suddenly.
‘Do you want toys, books, dolls?’
‘Could I …’ said Mary, her voice trembling, ‘Could I have a bit of
earth?’
Mr Craven looked surprised.
‘Earth?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to plant some seeds and watch them grow,’ said Mary.
Mr Craven stared at her and put his hands over his face for a moment.
When she got inside, Mary told Martha all about meeting Dickon. But
she was very careful. She didn’t say anything about the secret garden.
Then she ate her dinner as quickly as possible. She was getting ready
to go outside again when Martha stopped her.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Martha said. ‘Mr Craven came back
this morning and he wants to see you.’
Mary turned pale.
‘Why? Why does he want to see me?’ she asked.
‘Mrs Medlock says that my mother saw him in the village yesterday,’
said Martha. ‘And she said something to him but I don’t know what
she said. He’s going away again tomorrow. He probably won’t come
back again until the autumn or winter. And he wants to see you before
he goes. Mrs Medlock is going to come and get you in a minute.’
Mr Craven was sitting in a chair in front of the fire. He was not really
a hunchback, but he had high, slightly crooked shoulders. His black
hair was white in places.
‘This is Miss Mary, sir,’ said Mrs Medlock.
‘You can leave her here,’ said Mr Craven, and he looked over his
shoulder at Mary. ‘Come here!’ he said, as Mrs Medlock left the room.
He was not ugly. But his face was miserable, and he looked worried.
‘Are you well?’ he asked Mary. ‘You are very thin.’
‘I am getting fatter,’ said Mary, in her stiff little voice.
‘I forgot you,’ he said. ‘I should have got you a teacher, but I forgot.’

24
 What an unhappy face he had! His black eyes hardly seemed to see
Mary. It was as if they were seeing something else.
‘Please,’ said Mary. ‘Please don’t make me have a teacher yet.’
‘That’s what Mrs Sowerby said,’ said Mr Craven. ‘Martha’s mother.
I met her yesterday, and she was worried about you. She said you
should play outside. She thought you should get stronger before you
have a teacher.’
‘I want to play outside,’ Mary answered. She tried to stop her voice
trembling. ‘It makes me feel strong when I play in the wind from the
moor.’
Mr Craven was watching her.
‘Where do you play?’ he asked.
‘Everywhere,’ said Mary quietly. ‘I run around, and look for things
growing up out of the earth. I don’t do anything wrong.’
‘Don’t look so frightened,’ said Mr Craven in a worried voice. ‘You
may do what you like. I am not good at looking after children. I am
too ill and I have too many things to think about. But I want you to be
happy and comfortable. Play outside as much as you like. You can go
anywhere you like. Is there anything you want?’ he added suddenly.
‘Do you want toys, books, dolls?’
‘Could I …’ said Mary, her voice trembling, ‘Could I have a bit of
earth?’
Mr Craven looked surprised.
‘Earth?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to plant some seeds and watch them grow,’ said Mary.
Mr Craven stared at her and put his hands over his face for a moment.
Then he got up and walked slowly across the room. When he spoke to
her again his eyes were soft and kind.
‘You can have as much earth as you want,’ he said. ‘You remind me
of someone else who loved the earth and things that grow. When you
see a bit of earth you want, take it, child. Make it come alive. Now,
you must go. I am tired.’ He touched the bell to call Mrs Medlock.
‘Goodbye. I shall be away all summer.’

25
 When Mrs Medlock had led Mary back to her own corridor, she ran
into her room. Martha was waiting there for her.
‘I can have a garden!’ Mary cried, excited. ‘And I am not going to
have a teacher until I am stronger! Mr Craven said that I can do what
I like.’
Mary ran as quickly as she could out to the garden. She knew that she
had been away for a long time. When she went under the ivy and
through the door, she saw that Dickon was not there. The garden fork
and spade were lying under a tree, but the secret garden was empty.
‘He’s gone,’ said Mary sadly. ‘Oh, was it all just a dream?’
Then she saw a piece of paper lying by the fork and spade. There was
a picture on the paper, and some writing.
She couldn’t see what the picture was at first, but then she realized. It
was a bird sitting on a nest. Underneath, the writing said, ‘I will come
back.’

Chapter 6: A meeting in the night

Mary took the picture back to the house and showed it to Martha.
‘Oh, our Dickon’s clever,’ she said proudly. ‘That’s a picture of a
thrush on her nest. It almost looks real.’
Suddenly Mary understood. The picture was like a message. Dickon
wanted to show her that he would keep her secret.
Mary hoped that he would come back the next day. She fell asleep
feeling excited about the morning. But in the night she was woken by
the sound of heavy rain. It was beating against her window, and the
wind was whistling around the house. Mary felt miserable and angry.
Now she wouldn’t be able to go to the garden in the morning.
She could not go to sleep again. After she had been lying awake for
about an hour, she suddenly sat up in bed. She had heard something.
‘That’s not the noise of the wind,’ she said in a loud whisper. ‘It’s that
crying I heard before, when I first arrived here.’
She listened for a few minutes, and she became more and more sure.
She got out of bed and stood up.
26
 ‘I am going to find out what it is,’ she said.
She followed the noise of the crying along the corridors, her heart
beating loudly. At last she came to a door with a light coming from
underneath. The crying was coming from inside.
Mary pushed the door open and stepped inside a large room. There
was lots of beautiful old furniture in the room. A fire was burning
gently. There was also a big bed. And on the bed a boy was lying,
crying miserably.
The boy had a sharp white face with big grey eyes and lots of hair. He
looked up at Mary and his eyes opened wide.
‘Who are you?’ he said in a half-frightened whisper. ‘Are you a
ghost?’
‘No, I’m not,’ answered Mary. ‘Are you?’
‘No,’ the boy replied after a moment or so. Mary thought that he
looked ill. ‘I am Colin. Colin Craven. Who are you?’
‘I am Mary Lennox. Mr Craven is my uncle.’
‘He is my father,’ said the boy.
‘Your father!’ gasped Mary. ‘No one ever told me he had a boy!’
‘Come here,’ said Colin, watching her carefully with a worried face.
Mary came close to the bed. The boy put out his hand and touched her
arm.
‘Where did you come from?’ he asked.
‘From my room,’ said Mary. ‘I heard someone crying. I wanted to see
who it was. Why were you crying?’
‘Because I couldn’t go to sleep,’ said Colin. ‘Tell me your name
again.’
‘Mary Lennox. Did no one tell you that I live here now?’
‘No,’ the boy answered. ‘They were probably afraid to tell me. I don’t
let people see me or talk about me.’
‘Why?’ asked Mary.
‘Because I’m always ill. I’m always having to lie down. My father won’t
let people talk about me either. If I live, I may be a hunchback, but I
shan’t live.’

27
 Oh, what a strange house this is!’ said Mary. ‘Everything is secret.
Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up. What about you?
Have you been locked up, too?’
‘No,’ replied Colin. ‘I stay here because I don’t want to go out. I get
too tired.’
‘If you don’t like people to see you,’ she said, ‘do you want me to go
away?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I want to hear about you.’
Mary sat down near the bed. She wanted to stay in this hidden room.
She wanted to talk to this mysterious boy.
‘What do you want me to tell you?’ she asked.
Colin wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite. He
asked where her room was and what she did during the day. He made
her tell him all about India and her journey back to England. Mary
found out lots of things about Colin, too. He had lots of wonderful
toys and things. Whenever he asked for things, people always brought
them to him. And if he didn’t want to do something, no one made him
do it.
‘Everyone has to please me,’ Colin told her. ‘I get ill when I am angry.
No one believes I shall live long enough to grow up.’
‘Does your father come and see you?’ Mary asked.
‘Sometimes,’ Colin answered, and his face suddenly looked dark and
angry. ‘But he doesn’t want to see me. My mother died when I was
born. It makes my father feel miserable when he looks at me. He
almost hates me.’
‘He hates the garden because she died,’ Mary said, almost to herself.
‘That was why he locked the garden door and buried the key.’
Colin sat up a little, and turned towards Mary.
‘What garden door did he lock?’ he asked. He was suddenly interested.
‘It – it was a garden your mother used to like,’ said Mary nervously.
‘He locked the door ten years ago. No one – no one knows where he
buried the key.’
‘What sort of garden is it?’ asked Colin, excited.
‘No one has been into it for ten years,’ said Mary carefully.

28
 But it was too late to be careful. Colin was too much like Mary. He,
too, was excited about the idea of a hidden garden. He asked her lots
of questions. Where was the garden? Had Mary ever looked for the
door? Had she ever asked the gardeners?
‘The gardeners won’t talk about it,’ said Mary. ‘I think your father
told them not to say anything.’
‘I shall make them tell me,’ said Colin.
‘Could you do that?’ asked Mary, starting to feel worried.
‘Everyone has to please me,’ said Colin. ‘If I live, this house will be
mine one day.’
‘Do you really think you won’t live?’ Mary asked. She wanted him to
forget about the garden.
‘Everyone says that I won’t,’ replied Colin. ‘They think I don’t know.
At first they thought that I was too little to understand. And now they
think that I don’t hear. But I do. My doctor is my father’s cousin. He
is quite poor. If I die, he will have Misselthwaite when my father dies.
So I don’t think he wants me to live.’
‘Do you want to live?’ asked Mary.
‘No,’ Colin said, sounding cross and tired. ‘My father is afraid that I
will be a hunchback like him. I don’t want to die, though. When I feel
ill, I lie here and think about dying. And then I cry and cry. But let’s
not talk about that. Let’s talk about the garden. Don’t you want to see
it?’
‘Yes,’ Mary said quietly.
‘I do,’ Colin went on. ‘I don’t think I ever wanted to see anything
before. But I want to see that garden. I want to find the key and unlock
the door. They could take me there in my wheelchair. I am going to
make them open the door. They have to please me. I will make them
take me there. And I will let you go too.’
He had become quite excited, and his large eyes were shining.
Mary’s heart was beating hard. Everything would be spoiled. Dickon
would never come back. She would never again feel like a thrush with
a safely hidden nest.
‘Oh, don’t! Don’t do that!’ she cried out.

29
 He stared at her.
‘Why not?’ he asked, surprised. ‘You said you wanted to see it.’
‘I do,’ she answered, feeling as if she might cry. ‘But if you make
them open the door like that, it will never be a secret again.’ She took
a deep breath. ‘You see, if we are the only people who know, perhaps
we can find the door. Perhaps we can go in and shut it behind us. And
then no one would know that we were inside. Oh, don’t you see? It
would be so much nicer if it was a secret.’
‘I’ve never had a proper secret,’ said Colin.
‘Don’t make them take you to the garden,’ said Mary. ‘I’m sure I can
find out how to get into it. And then perhaps we could find a boy who
could push your wheelchair. We could go alone. Then it would always
be a secret garden.’
‘I should like that,’ Colin said slowly. His eyes looked dreamy.
‘I have been here a long time,’ said Mary. ‘Shall I go away now? You
look sleepy.’
‘I am. But I am glad you came,’ said Colin.
‘So am I,’ said Mary. ‘I shall come as often as I can. But I will have
to look every day for the garden door.’
‘Yes, you must,’ said Colin. ‘And you can tell me about it afterwards.
Do you know Martha?’
‘Yes, I know her very well,’ said Mary, surprised. ‘She brings me my
meals.’
‘She looks after me when my nurse isn’t here,’ said Colin. ‘Martha
will tell you when to come.’
So Martha already knew about Colin! That was why she looked so
worried when Mary asked her about the crying. Suddenly Mary
understood.
‘I wish I could go to sleep before you leave me,’ Colin said a little
shyly.
‘Shut your eyes,’ said Mary, moving closer to the bed.
‘I shall hold your hand and sing to you quietly. My servants used to
do that for me in India.’
‘I would like that,’ said Colin sleepily.

30
It was strange, but Mary felt sorry for Colin. She didn’t want him to lie
there awake. So she sat close to the bed and held his hand. And she sang
quietly to him until his eyes shut and he was asleep. Then she got up
quietly and went back to her room.

Chapter 7: Colin

It was still raining in the morning, and Mary couldn’t go outside. She
didn’t see Martha until the afternoon. But
when Martha came to bring her tea, Mary told her the news at once.
‘I have found out what the crying was,’ Mary said. ‘I heard it in the
night and I wanted to see where it was coming from. So I went to look,
and I found Colin.’
‘Oh, Miss Mary,’ cried Martha. ‘You shouldn’t have done that! They
will be cross with me. They will send me away!’
‘They won’t send you away,’ said Mary. ‘Colin was pleased that I
came. We talked and talked. He asked me all about India.’
Martha gasped in amazement.
‘I don’t believe you!’ she said. ‘Colin won’t let people look at him.
When they do, he has one of his tantrums. He screams and cries so
much it frightens us all. Was he really nice to you?’
‘I think he almost liked me,’ Mary said. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘Nobody really knows,’ said Martha. ‘Mr Craven nearly went mad
when he was born, because Mrs Craven had died. He wouldn’t look at
the baby. He said that Colin would just be another hunchback.
Everyone worries that his back is weak. So they make him lie down
and they don’t let him walk. Dr Craven made him wear a metal thing
on his back once. But another doctor came from London and told him
to take it off. He was very angry. He said that Colin takes too much
31
 medicine. He said people shouldn’t let him do what he wants all the
time.’
‘Do you think he will die?’ asked Mary.
‘Mother says it’s difficult to live when you’re like that. He doesn’t get
any fresh air. He lies on his back all day taking medicine and reading
books.’
A bell rang, and Martha got up to go. When she came back, she looked
surprised.
‘Well, you have put him in a good mood,’ she said. ‘He’s sitting up
on his sofa reading. He wants you to go and see him.’
Mary was pleased. She wanted to see Colin very much. Not as much
as she wanted to see Dickon. But she did want to see him.
Colin’s room looked even more beautiful in daylight. There were
colourful rugs and pictures, and lots of books. Colin was sitting on the
sofa wearing a dressing gown.
‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all morning.’
‘I’ve been thinking about you, too,’ answered Mary. ‘You know,
Martha is very frightened. She thinks that Mrs Medlock will send her
away. She says Mrs Medlock will think Martha told me about you.’
Colin frowned.
‘Go and tell Martha to come here,’ he said. ‘She is in the next room.’
Mary went and brought her back. Poor Martha was trembling.
‘You know that you have to do what I tell you,’ Colin said to her in a
hard voice.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Martha, turning red.
‘Medlock has to do what I tell her too. So when I ask you to bring
Mary here, you must bring her. And if Medlock says anything about
it, I’ll send her away,’ he said importantly. ‘Now go.’
When Martha had gone, Colin saw that Mary was staring at him.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked. ‘What were you
thinking?’
‘I was thinking that I saw a prince in India once,’ Mary replied. ‘He
spoke to his people just like you spoke to Martha. Everybody had to

32
 do what he said. And I was also thinking how different you are from
Dickon.’
‘Who is Dickon?’ Colin said.
‘He is Martha’s brother,’ said Mary. ‘He is not like anyone else in the
world. He plays on his pipe and the foxes and squirrels and birds come
and listen to him. He knows about everything that grows or lives on
the moor. He knows all about eggs and nests. And he knows where all
the animals live. But he keeps it a secret. He doesn’t want other boys
to frighten them.’
Colin lay back on the sofa and his eyes grew larger.
‘Tell me some more about him,’ he said.
So Mary told Colin about the moor, and about Dickon’s cottage and
the fourteen people who lived there. She talked about Dickon’s
mother. And she talked about the green shoots that were sticking up
out of the black earth.
‘You never see anything if you are ill,’ said Colin quietly.
‘You can’t if you stay in a room,’ said Mary.
‘I couldn’t go on the moor,’ said Colin. ‘How could I? I am going to
die.’
Mary didn’t like the way Colin talked about dying. He almost sounded
proud of it.
‘Let’s not talk about dying,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk about living. Dickon
is always talking about living things. He’s always looking up in the
sky to watch birds flying. Or looking down at the earth to watch things
growing. Let’s talk about Dickon.’
It was the best thing she could have said. Mary talked more than she
had ever talked before. And Colin talked and listened more than he
had ever done. They both began to laugh about nothing. And suddenly
they seemed just like normal, healthy, happy children. They no longer
seemed like a hard, unloving little girl and a poor crooked boy who
thought he was going to die.
It rained for the rest of that week, so Mary couldn’t go to the secret
garden or see Dickon. But she enjoyed herself very much. Every day,

33
 she spent hours with Colin in his room. They talked about gardens or
Dickon or the cottage on the moor, and they looked at Colin’s books.
Mrs Medlock had been shocked the first time she walked into Master
Colin’s room and found Mary there. But Colin told her that Mary
made him feel better. He said that he wanted her to come and talk to
him whenever he asked.
Mary was very careful about the secret garden when she talked to Colin.
She still wasn’t sure whether he would be able to keep the secret. But she
thought perhaps if Colin met Dickon and saw things growing, he
wouldn’t think about dying so much. She knew that the gardens and the
fresh air had been good for her. She had grown stronger and fatter, and
her cheeks were red. Perhaps the fresh air would be good for Colin too.

Chapter 8: A tantrum
On the first morning when the sky was blue again, Mary woke very
early. The sun was pouring in through the windows. She jumped out
of bed and ran to open the window. The moor was blue, and the fresh
air that blew in was warm.
‘I can’t wait!’ Mary said, excited. ‘I’m going to see the garden!’
She knew how to dress herself by now. She put on her clothes and ran
downstairs. No one was awake because it was so early, but she
unlocked a small side door. And then she stepped outside. The sky
was so blue and full of springtime light that she wanted to sing. She
ran towards the secret garden. In all the flower beds, things had started
to grow. Mary could even see purple and yellow crocuses starting to
come out. The world was waking up.
When Mary arrived at the door of the secret garden, she heard a
strange low sound. Looking up, she saw a crow landing on top of the
wall. He made her a little nervous, and she felt glad when he flew away
across the garden. But when she went into the garden, she saw that he
had landed on an apple tree. Under the apple tree was a little fox cub.
Both animals were watching Dickon, who was working hard on the
grass below.
Mary ran across the grass to him.
34
 ‘Oh, Dickon! Dickon!’ she cried out. ‘How did you get here so early?’
‘I couldn’t stay in bed!’ he laughed. ‘The world’s begun again this
morning. And the garden was lying here waiting. I ran like mad all the
way here, shouting and singing! And these two came with me!’
As he spoke, the little fox cub got up and moved next to him. And the
crow flew down and sat quietly on his shoulder.
‘Oh, Dickon!’ said Mary. ‘I’m so happy!’
There was so much to see. There were leaf-buds growing on the rose
branches. And there were thousands of new green shoots pushing up
through the earth. There was every joy on earth in the secret garden
that morning. Even the robin had a special surprise for them. They
suddenly saw him flying through the trees with something in his beak.
Dickon stood quite still and put his hand on Mary’s arm.
‘He’s found a mate and he’s building his nest,’ he whispered to her.
‘That’s part of springtime. We mustn’t frighten him.’
‘There’s something I want to tell you,’ whispered Mary. ‘Do you
know about Colin?’
Dickon turned his head to look at her in surprise.
‘What do you know about him?’ he asked.
Mary told Dickon about finding Colin in his room.
‘Colin is afraid of becoming a hunchback like his father,’ said Mary.
‘He’s so afraid of it that he won’t sit up.’
Dickon thought for a few minutes.
‘I knew there was a little boy who was ill’, he said. ‘And I knew that
Mr Craven didn’t like people talking about him. If he was out here, he
wouldn’t think about being a hunchback. Do you think we could get
him to come out here?’
‘I’ve been wondering that myself,’ said Mary.
‘It’d be good for him, I’m sure,’ said Dickon. ‘I could push his
wheelchair. I’m sure we could get him out here.’
They were so busy in the garden that Mary didn’t go and see Colin all
day. When she finally said goodbye to Dickon and came into the house
for tea, she was excited about seeing Colin. She wanted to tell him
about Dickon’s fox cub and the crow.
35
 But when she went to her room, Martha was waiting there, looking
worried.
‘Oh, I wish you’d gone to see him today,’ Martha said. ‘He’s been
getting close to a tantrum all afternoon.’
When Mary went into Colin’s room, he was lying on his back in his
bed. His nurse was sitting in the corner of the room. Colin did not turn
his head towards Mary when she came in.
‘Why didn’t you get up?’ Mary asked him.
‘I did get up this morning,’ Colin answered, without looking at her.
‘But you didn’t come. So I told them to put me back in bed this
afternoon. Where have you been?’
‘I was working in the garden with Dickon,’ said Mary.
Colin frowned and looked at her.
‘I won’t let that boy come here if you stay with him all the time,’ he
said.
Mary grew silently angry.
‘If you send Dickon away, I’ll never come into this room again,’ she
said.
‘I’ll make you!’ said Colin. ‘You’re so selfish!’
‘You’re more selfish than I am,’ said Mary. ‘You’re the most selfish
boy I ever saw.’
‘I’m not!’ snapped Colin. ‘I’m not selfish, because I’m always ill,’ he
said. ‘And anyway, I’m going to die.’
‘You’re not!’ snapped Mary. ‘You just say that. I think you’re proud
of it!’
Colin’s face had gone white and red, and he was shaking.
‘I felt a lump in my back,’ he choked. ‘I felt it. I am going to turn into
a hunchback, and then I shall die.’
‘You didn’t feel a lump,’ said Mary, still angry. ‘There’s nothing
wrong with your stupid back. Turn over and let me look at it. Nurse!
Come here and show me his back!’
The nurse came up to the bed, looking a little frightened.
‘Show her!’ Colin cried. ‘Then she’ll see!’

36
 The nurse helped Colin turn over, and Mary looked up and down his
poor thin back.
‘There’s nothing there!’ she said at last. ‘There are no lumps. If you
ever say there’s a lump again, I shall laugh!’
For years, Colin had lain in his bed thinking that he was ill. Everyone
had been frightened of him. So no one had ever told him that there was
nothing wrong with him. But now, hearing this angry little girl, he
actually felt that she might be telling the truth.
‘I didn’t know that he thought he had a lump on his back,’ said the
nurse quietly. ‘There’s no lump. His back is weak because he doesn’t
sit up.’
Colin turned to look at her. Big tears were running down his face.
‘Do you think – do you think I will live long enough to grow up?’ he
asked.
‘You probably will if you get lots of fresh air,’ said the nurse.
‘I’ll look after him,’ Mary said to the nurse. ‘You can go if you like.’
As soon as the nurse had gone, Colin pulled Mary’s hand.
‘Tell me, Mary.’ he said. ‘Have you – have you found the way into
the secret garden yet?’
Mary looked at Colin’s poor little tired face and her heart softened.
‘I think I may have found the way,’ she answered. ‘And if you promise
not to have any more tantrums, I will tell you about it tomorrow.’
Colin’s hand trembled.
‘Oh, Mary!’ he said. ‘If I could go into the garden, I think I would live
long enough to grow up!’
‘Lie quietly,’ Mary said. ‘And I shall tell you what I think the garden
might look like.’
And quietly, Mary began to talk about the secret garden. She talked about
roses that might have climbed all over the trees and the walls. She talked
about crocuses that might be turning purple and yellow. And she talked
about a robin that might be building its nest. And when she looked up,
Colin had fallen asleep.
Chapter 9: ‘The spring has come!’

37
 The next morning, Mary woke late. When she got up, she saw that
there was a wooden box on her table.
‘Mr Craven sent it to you,’ said Martha, excited.
Mary opened the box. There were several beautiful books. Two of
them were about gardens. There were also two or three games, and a
beautiful little writing case. Mary had not expected Mr Craven to
remember her and her hard little heart grew quite warm. She ate her
breakfast quickly, and went straight to Colin’s room, carrying the box.
He was lying on his bed looking pale and tired, but he was pleased to
see her. Mary showed him the presents, and together they looked at
the garden books.
‘Mary,’ he said after a while, ‘I wish I hadn’t said those things about
sending Dickon away yesterday.’ Mary could see that Colin was
thinking. ‘You know,’ he went on, ‘I wouldn’t mind if Dickon saw
me. I want to meet him.’
‘I’m glad you said that,’ answered Mary, ‘because Dickon would like
to come and see you too. I could ask him to come tomorrow, if you
like.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Colin cried out, excited.
‘And there’s something else, too,’ said Mary. ‘Can you promise to
keep a secret?’ she said. ‘Can you really promise?’
Mary’s face was so serious that Colin almost whispered his answer.
‘Yes – yes!’
‘There is a door into the garden,’ said Mary. ‘I found it. It is under the
ivy on the wall.’
Colin’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. He almost couldn’t breathe.
Then he took hold of her hands and pulled her towards him.
‘Oh, Mary!’ he cried out. ‘Will I be able to see it? Will I be able to go
into it? Will I live long enough?’
‘Of course you will!’ she said a little crossly. ‘Don’t be silly!’
And because she spoke so sensibly, he started to laugh at himself.
Mary sat down next to his bed. After a few moments, she told him all
about the secret garden. And this time, she did not tell him what she

38
 thought it would be like. She told him how it really was. He listened
full of excitement and delight.
‘It’s just how you thought it would be!’ he said at last.
Mary thought for a couple of minutes. And then she told Colin the
truth.
‘I had already seen it – and I had been in it,’ she said. ‘I found the key
and got in weeks ago. But I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure that
you could keep a secret.’
The next morning, Mary and Colin ate their breakfast together with the
morning air pouring in through the window. Colin ate a good breakfast,
and Mary watched him with interest.
‘You will start to get fatter, just like me,’ she said.
‘I felt hungry this morning,’ said Colin. ‘Perhaps it’s the fresh air
coming from the window. When do you think Dickon will come?’
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, the door opened
and Martha came in.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said. ‘Here’s Dickon and his animals.’
Dickon came in smiling his nicest wide smile. He was holding a
newborn lamb in his arms, and the little fox cub was walking next to
him. Two squirrels were looking out of his pockets, and the crow sat
on his shoulder.
Colin slowly sat up and stared and stared. He had never talked to
another boy before. He was so curious and so excited that he forgot to
speak.
But Dickon was not at all shy. He walked over to Colin’s sofa, and put
the lamb quietly onto Colin’s knees. It immediately started rubbing its
nose against Colin’s dressing gown.
‘What is it doing?’ asked Colin. ‘What does it want?’
‘It’s hungry,’ said Dickon, smiling. He took a feeding bottle of milk
out of his pocket and put it in the lamb’s mouth. And the children
watched as the lamb drank the milk all down quickly and then fell
asleep on Colin’s knee.
After that, the children wanted to know all about the lamb. Dickon
told them that he had found it on the moor three days before. Its mother
39
 had died, and it was hungry. So he had wrapped it up in his coat, and
carried it home.
‘It was half dead with cold when I found it,’ said Dickon. ‘But I fed it
some warm milk, and it lay down next to the fire, and soon started to
look better.’
While Dickon talked, the squirrels ran up and down the big trees
outside Colin’s room. And the crow flew in and out of the open
window. After Colin had asked Dickon endless questions about the
animals, the children looked at the pictures in Mary’s garden books.
They also talked about the flowers that were growing in the secret
garden.
‘I’m going to see them!’ cried Colin. ‘I’m going to see them!’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Mary. ‘And you’re going to see them soon!’

Chapter 10: Colin goes into the secret garden

But the children had to wait for more than a week. The next few days
were very windy, and then Colin got a cold. Normally, when things
did not happen the way he wanted, Colin had big tantrums. But the
children were so busy planning his visit to the secret garden that Colin
did not have time to get upset.
At last the day they had been waiting for came. Colin sent for Mrs
Medlock in the morning.
‘I am going out in my wheelchair this afternoon,’ he said. ‘If I like the
fresh air, I may go out every day. When I go, all the gardeners must
stay away from the kitchen gardens. I will go out at about two o’clock.
I will tell them when they can go back to their work.’
Mrs Medlock had almost gasped in surprise when Colin started
talking. He had always said that fresh air would give him a cold and
kill him.
‘Things are changing in this house,’ Mrs Medlock said to the nurse
after she had left Colin’s room. ‘That girl from India has done
something to Master Colin. I don’t know what it is. But there’s
something different about him.’

40
 After lunch, the nurse helped Colin to get dressed, and a servant
carried him downstairs to his wheelchair while Mary walked behind.
Dickon was waiting outside. The nurse and the servant arranged
Colin’s rugs and cushions, and then they went back inside.
When they had gone, Dickon began to push the wheelchair slowly and
carefully. Mary walked next to it, and Colin lay back and looked up at
the sky. The small snowy clouds were like white birds floating above
the blue. The wind blew softly down from the moor, bringing a sweet,
clear smell.
‘What’s that smell?’ Colin asked.
‘It’s the gorse on the moor opening out,’ answered Dickon. ‘The bees
will be busy today!’
The gardeners had all gone, as Colin had asked, but when the children
arrived at the long walk, they started to whisper.
‘This is where I used to walk,’ said Mary quietly. ‘And this is where
the robin showed me the key.’
Colin’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.
‘And this,’ said Mary, stepping onto the flower bed and lifting up the
ivy, ‘this is the door!’
Colin gasped as Mary turned the handle and opened the door. Then
Dickon pushed the wheelchair through the door and into the garden.
Colin covered his eyes with his hands until the wheelchair had
stopped. Only then did he take them away and look round and round.
Everywhere there were little patches of gold and purple and white.
Little green leaves were growing on the branches and the walls. And
all around them they heard birds fluttering their wings.
The sun fell on Colin’s face like a hand with a lovely touch, and Mary
and Dickon stood and stared at him in surprise. He looked so strange
and different. A little bit of colour had touched his face and neck and
hands.
‘I shall get well!’ he cried out. ‘Mary! Dickon! I shall get well! And I
shall live forever and ever”.
Dickon and Mary pushed the wheelchair slowly round and round the
garden, stopping all the time to show Colin things. They showed him
41
 buds that were opening and leaves that were just coming out. They
showed him crocuses coming up from the earth. There were so many
new things to look at that afternoon. Every hour the sunshine seemed
to get more golden.
After a while, Dickon and Mary pulled Colin’s wheelchair under the
plum tree, which was covered in snow-white blossom. They did a
little bit of work in the garden, and Colin watched them.
‘Look!’ cried Dickon suddenly, pointing across the garden at a flash
of red. ‘There’s the robin! He’s been looking for food for his mate.’
Colin looked up and saw the robin flying into the trees with a worm
in his beak. Then the boy sat back in his chair, laughing a little with
happiness.
‘I don’t want this afternoon to end,’ he said. ‘But I shall come back
tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. I’m going to see
everything grow here. And I’m going to grow here myself.’
‘You will,’ said Dickon. ‘Soon you’ll be walking about and digging
here like us.’
Colin’s face went red.
‘Walk!’ he said. ‘Dig! Shall I?’
Mary and Dickon looked at each other. They had never asked Colin
why he did not walk. They did not know if there was anything wrong
with his legs.
‘Of course you will,’ said Dickon after a moment. ‘You’ve got legs,
just like us, haven’t you?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with them,’ Colin answered. ‘But they are so
thin and weak. I’m afraid to stand up because they shake so much.’
‘When you stop being afraid, you’ll stand on them,’ Dickon said.
They were all quiet for a little while. The sun was dropping lower in
the sky. Even the animals had stopped moving about. Dickon and
Mary were both surprised when Colin suddenly said in a frightened
whisper:
‘Who is that man?’
Dickon and Mary jumped up. Colin was pointing at the high wall.
‘Look!’ he whispered excitedly. ‘Look!’

42
 Mary and Dickon looked up. Ben Weatherstaff was standing at the
top of a ladder, looking crossly over the wall at them. Mary walked
towards him.
‘I always thought you were a bad one,’ he said to her, shaking his
fist. ‘Always asking questions. How on earth did you get in here?’
Suddenly, Ben Weatherstaff stopped shaking his fist and his mouth
dropped open. Dickon was pushing Colin’s wheelchair across the
grass towards Mary. Ben stared at Colin. He looked as if he was
seeing a ghost.
‘Do you know who I am?’ Colin said importantly.
Ben Weatherstaff rubbed his hand over his eyes.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘I can see your mother’s eyes staring at me out
of that face. I don’t know how you got here. But you are that poor
boy who can’t walk.’
Colin went bright red and sat up.
‘I can walk!’ he shouted. ‘I can!’
‘You – you haven’t got a crooked back?’ asked Ben.
‘No!’ shouted Colin.
‘And you haven’t got crooked legs?’ Ben said in a shaky voice.
It was too much for Colin. Suddenly his anger made him stronger
than he had ever been before.
‘Come here!’ he shouted to Dickon, pulling the rugs off his
wheelchair. ‘Come here now!’
Dickon rushed to Colin’s side. Mary felt herself turn pale.
‘He can do it! He can do it!’ she whispered to herself.
Dickon threw the rugs on the ground and took Colin’s arm. His thin
legs came out and his feet were on the grass. Then Colin was
standing up, looking strangely tall. He threw his head back and his
eyes shone.
‘Look at me!’ he shouted up at Ben Weatherstaff. ‘Just look at me!’
‘He’s as straight as I am,’ cried Dickon.
Then Ben Weatherstaff did something very strange. He choked and
put his hands together, and tears ran down his cheeks.

43
 ‘Oh, it was all lies!’ he said. ‘You’re as thin as a stick and as white
as a sheet. But you’re not crooked. You’ll be a fine man one day.
God bless you.’
Dickon held Colin’s arms strongly, but Colin stood straighter and
straighter.
‘I’m your master when my father is away,’ Colin said to Ben. ‘You
must do what I say. This is my garden. You mustn’t say anything
about it. Now get down from that ladder. Go out to the long walk and
Mary will meet you there. She’ll bring you here. I want to talk to
you. We did not want you, but now you will have to be in on the
secret.’
Ben Weatherstaff still couldn’t stop looking at Colin’s face.
‘Oh, my boy,’ he almost whispered. Then he added, ‘Yes, sir, yes,
sir.’ And his head disappeared as he went down the ladder.
Mary ran across the grass to meet him, and Colin turned to Dickon.
His cheeks were red.
‘I’m going to walk to that tree,’ Colin said, pointing at a tree close
by.
He walked to the tree. Dickon held his arm, but he walked without
stopping. When Ben Weatherstaff came through the door, he saw
Colin standing there.
‘Look at me!’ said Colin. ‘Am No my love set set I a hunchback?
Have I got crooked legs?
‘No,’ said Ben, looking him up and down. ‘You haven’t. Why don’t
you sit down, young master. And tell me what to do.’
Dickon had put a rug under the tree, and Colin sat down on it.
‘What work do you do in the gardens, Weatherstaff?’ he asked.
‘Anything they tell me to,’ Ben answered. ‘They kept me here
because your mother liked me.’
‘My mother?’ said Colin, and he looked about quietly. ‘This was her
garden, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ said Ben. ‘She loved it.’
‘It’s my garden now,’ said Colin. ‘I like it. I shall come here every day.
But that must be a secret. No one must know that we come here. Mary

44
and Dickon have worked and made it come alive. We’ll ask you to come
and help sometimes. But you must come secretly, when no one can see
you.’
Ben’s face twisted into a dry old smile.
‘I’ve come secretly before,’ he said. ‘She liked this garden so much,
your mother. She asked me to look after it for her. So after she died,
I came and did a bit of work for her every year. But I didn’t come
through the door. I came over the wall.’
‘That’s why so many roses are still alive,’ said Dickon. ‘I thought
someone had done some work here.’
Dickon had left a trowel lying on the grass near the tree, and Colin
suddenly reached out and picked it up. He had a strange look on his
face, and he started digging at the earth. His hand was weak. But as
they watched him, he dug the trowel into the earth and turned some
over.
‘You said I’d walk like other people,’ he said excitedly to Dickon.
‘And you said I’d dig. This is only the first day, and I’ve walked.
And now I’m digging!’
‘Would you like to plant something, Master Colin?’ Ben
Weatherstaff asked. ‘I could get you a rose in a pot.’
‘Go and get it!’ said Colin, digging happily. ‘Quick! Quick!’
Ben Weatherstaff hurried away to find the rose. Dickon took his
spade and helped Colin make the hole deeper.
‘I want to do it before the sun goes down,’ said Colin, looking up at
the sky.
When Ben came back, Colin put the rose into the hole. Ben and
Dickon helped him fill the rose in and press it down.
‘It’s planted!’ said Colin at last. ‘Help me up, Dickon. I want to
stand up and watch the sun going down.’
Dickon helped Colin up. And when the sun finally went down at the end
of that strange and lovely afternoon, Colin was standing on his two feet
laughing.
Chapter 11: ‘I am getting stronger!’
45
 The next few months in the garden were like magic. At first there were
green shoots coming up everywhere – in the grass, in the flowerbeds
and even on the walls. Then the buds appeared. And then the buds
opened out and the garden was full of colour. The poppies Dickon and
Mary had planted grew, and the roses covered the garden. They
climbed the walls, hung from the trees and grew out of the grass. They
seemed to come alive every minute, and their smell filled the garden
air.
Colin saw it all. He spent every hour of each day in the garden. He
watched things growing. He watched the insects and birds in the
garden. And he learned from Dickon about other animals, too.
Suddenly he had a whole new world to discover.
Because he had stood on his feet, Colin had something else new to
think about, too. He wanted to walk and run, and he wanted to be as
strong as Dickon. So every morning, with Mary standing on one side,
and Dickon on the other, he walked around the garden. The first time,
they had to stop after every few steps, and Colin held on to Dickon’s
arm. But sometimes Colin took his arm away, put his head up high
and walked a few steps alone.
‘I am getting stronger! I can feel it!’ he cried, after they had walked
all around the garden for the first time.
‘What will Dr Craven say?’ cried Mary, excitedly.
‘He won’t know,’ Colin answered. ‘This is going to be the biggest
secret of all. No one will know about it. I don’t want my father to hear
about it. We’ll wait until I can walk and run like other boys. Then
when my father comes back to Misselthwaite, I shall walk into his
room and I shall say, ‘Here I am. I am quite well and I shall live to be
a man.’
‘He won’t believe his eyes!’ cried Mary.
Colin’s cheeks were red. He finally believed that he was going to get
well. And he couldn’t wait to show his father that he was as straight
and as strong as any other boy.

46
 But it was difficult for the children to keep their secret. Each day Colin
grew a little stronger. He no longer looked like a sick child. His skin
now had a warm colour, his beautiful eyes were clear and he was
starting to get fatter. He and Mary were always hungry now. After
every meal, their plates were empty. The children knew that the
servants were starting to wonder why Master Colin was suddenly
eating so much. So the children decided they must try to eat less. But
every morning, they woke up feeling hungry. And when they saw their
breakfast laid out, they could never send it away.
The children had decided that Dickon’s mother could know their secret.
They all agreed that she would never tell anyone. So one beautiful
evening, while Dickon was working in his vegetable garden at home, he
told her the whole story. He told her about the buried key, and the garden,
and about Master Colin getting stronger.
‘My word!’ she said, when he had finished talking. ‘It’s a good thing
that little girl came to the Manor. It’s been good for her, and it’s saved
Master Colin. You say he stood on his feet! And we all thought he was
a poor, crooked boy. What do they think of it all at the Manor?’
‘They can’t understand it,’ laughed Dickon. ‘Master Colin’s keeping
it all a secret. He doesn’t want them to write and tell his father. So he
pretends he’s still ill. When the servants carry him down to the
wheelchair, he lies back like a sick child, moaning and complaining.
The problem is that Master Colin and Miss Mary are always hungry
now. They want to ask for more food. But they know the servants
won’t believe that Master Colin is still ill!’
Dickon’s mother laughed.
‘Oh, they’re enjoying themselves, aren’t they!’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you
what, son. In the morning, I’ll bake them some nice bread, and you
can take them some fresh milk. That will stop them feeling hungry!’
‘Oh, Mother! You are wonderful!’ cried Dickon. ‘What a good idea!’
And so the next morning, after the children had been in the garden for
a while, Dickon brought out a bucket of milk and some fresh bread,
still warm. Mary and Colin were delighted.

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‘Your mother is such a kind, clever woman, Dickon!’ they cried. ‘The
milk is so good! And the bread is wonderful!’
Chapter 12: Mr Craven comes home
While the secret garden was coming alive, and two children were
coming alive with it, Mr Archie Craven was travelling around
beautiful places in Europe. His mind had been full of dark, sad
thoughts for ten years. Something terrible had happened to him when
he had been happy. And he had refused to let any light into his life
since then. But slowly – slowly – as he walked among beautiful
mountains and wandered by blue lakes, he began to grow stronger.
Mr Craven began to think about Misselthwaite Manor, and wondered
if he should go home. Sometimes he thought about his son. He
wondered how he would feel when he looked at Colin’s white face
once more. He felt frightened when he thought about it.
One beautiful day, Mr Craven went out walking all day. When he
came back to the house where he was staying, the moon was high in
the sky. The lake near the house was so still in the silver moonlight
that he walked down and sat on a seat near the water. He breathed in
the lovely smells of the night, and felt strangely calm. He felt calmer
and calmer, until at last he fell asleep.
And as he slept, he dreamed a dream that seemed very real. It seemed
so real that he wasn’t even sure he had been dreaming. In his dream,
he heard a sweet happy voice, calling to him from far away.
‘Archie! Archie!’ the voice said.
It was the voice of his dead wife.
‘Lilias!’ he cried out to her. ‘Where are you?’
‘In the garden,’ she answered. ‘In the garden!’
That was the end of Mr Craven’s dream, but he did not wake up. He
slept deeply all night, on the seat by the lake. When he woke, it was
morning, and a servant was standing in front of him, holding a letter.
Mr Craven took the letter, and sat staring at the lake for a few
moments. He was remembering his dream.
‘In the garden,’ he said to himself. ‘But the door is locked and the key
is buried.’
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 When he looked at the letter a few minutes later, he saw that it had
come from Yorkshire. He opened the letter and read it.

Dear Sir,
I am Susan Sowerby, Martha’s mother. I spoke to you about Miss
Mary a little while ago when I met you in Thwaite. I would like to
speak to you about something else. Please, sir, I think you should come
home. I think you will be pleased that you have come back. And I
think your wife would ask you to come if she was here.

Kind regards,
Susan Sowerby

Mr Craven read the letter twice, and then put it down. He kept thinking
about the dream.
‘I will go back to Misselthwaite,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ll go straight
away.’
And he went back to the house and told the servants to get ready to go
back to England.
On the way back to Yorkshire, he thought a lot about his son, Colin.
When his wife had died, he had been like a madman. He had been
angry because his wife was dead and his son was alive. He had not felt
like a father at all. He had gone away travelling, and when he came
back and saw his son, he could not look at him. Colin’s eyes were so
like his wife’s happy eyes, and yet so different from them, because
they were so sad. After that, he only went to see Colin when he was
asleep. The servants told him that Colin was sick, and that he had big
tantrums.
Mr Craven kept remembering the voice he had heard in his dream: ‘In
the garden, in the garden.’
‘I will try to find the key,’ he said to himself. ‘I will try to open the
door. I must – although I don’t know why.’
When Mr Craven arrived back at Misselthwaite Manor, he went
straight out into the garden. The flower beds were full of autumn

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 flowers and the fountain was playing. Without knowing why, he
walked across the lawn and down to the long walk at the back of the
secret garden. When he got there, he wondered if he was dreaming
again. There was thick ivy over the door still. But he could hear noises
inside the garden. He could hear the noise of quiet laughter and
running feet. He could hear someone running faster and faster. And
then suddenly the door in the wall flew open, and a boy ran out very
fast, straight into Mr Craven’s arms.
Mr Craven held the boy away from him and looked at him, amazed.
He was a tall handsome boy and his face was full of colour. When Mr
Craven saw his eyes, he gasped. They were full of laughter.
This was not how Colin had planned to meet his father. He had come
running out of the garden because he had just won a race with Mary
and Dickon. But in fact, it was probably the best possible way of
surprising Mr Craven.
‘Father,’ he said, ‘I’m Colin. You can’t believe it, I know. The garden
made me well. Aren’t you glad, Father? I’m going to live for ever and
ever and ever!’
Mr Craven was trembling with happiness. He put his hands on the
boy’s shoulders and held him still. He couldn’t speak for a moment.
‘Take me into the garden, my boy,’ he said at last. ‘And tell me all
about it.’
Mary and Dickon had run out of the garden after Colin, and together
they all led Mr Craven back inside. The garden was full of autumn
colour – gold and purple and red – and late roses climbed and hung all
around. Mr Craven looked round and round.
‘I thought it would be dead,’ he said.
‘That was what Mary thought, too,’ said Colin. ‘But it came alive.’
Then they sat down under the tree, and the children told him their
story. They told him how Mary and Colin had met in the middle of the
night. They told him about the spring coming, and about their great
secret. Mr Craven laughed until he cried, and sometimes he cried when
he was not laughing.

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 ‘Now,’ said Colin, at the end of the story, ‘it doesn’t have to be a secret
any more. I am never going to go in the wheelchair again. I shall walk
back with you to the house, Father.’
A few minutes later, Mrs Medlock was looking out of the kitchen
window when she gave a little cry. All the servants came running over,
and looked out with her.
Mr Craven, the Master of Misselthwaite, was walking across the garden
towards them, looking happier than he had been for years. And next to
him, his head up in the air, and his eyes full of laughter, was Master Colin.
Walking as strongly as any boy in Yorkshire!

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