CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE BIRD'S NEST

Dickon began to walk around the garden slowly and softly, like a cat. He seemed to notice everything the gray vines, brown trees, and stone benches.

"I never thought I'd see this place," he said at last.

Mary was shocked. "Did you know about it?" she whispered.

"Martha told me there was one garden at Misselthwaite that no one went into. I used to wonder what it was like," he said.

His eyes looked happy as he explored the garden. "There will be lots of birds' nests here, in the spring. It's quiet and safe here."

"Oh, Dickon, will there be roses in the spring? I mean, do all the roses look dead?" said Mary.

"Oh, no, not all of them!" he answered. "Look at this." He took out a knife from his pocket and cut into a very large, tall bunch of rose branches. "Do you see how the inside looks a little green and wet?" he asked. "That means it's alive. If the wood looks dry, and breaks off in your hand, it's dead. There's a lot of dead wood in this garden that should be cut out, but I think plenty is probably still alive."

"Do you really think so?" Mary whispered excitedly. "I'm so glad! I want everything to be alive. Let's go around the garden and see!"

Dickon was as excited as she was. They went around the garden testing all the rose branches and bushes. "The weakest branches have died, but the stronger ones are still alive. If all the old wood is cut out, and everything is taken care of, why, there will be a fountain of roses here this summer!" Dickon said.

Mary learned to tell which wood was alive, and which was dead. Dickon showed her how to use the garden tools. They were busy working on one rose bush when Dickon said with surprise, "Why, who did that there?"

He was pointing to the little space Mary had made for the little green flower shoots.

"I did it," said Mary. "Those flower shoots were so little, and they looked like they couldn't breathe, with all the dead grass and weeds around."

"Well, you did that just like a gardener!" Dickon said. "They'll start growing quickly now. Just you wait and see."

He ran all around the garden inspecting Mary's work. He took handfuls of the dark black soil and smelled it. "There's a lot of work to be done here," he said happily.

"Oh, please—will you come again and help me do it?" Mary asked. "I'm fatter and stronger now. I won't get tired. I can dig and pull up weeds, and do whatever you tell me. Do come, Dickon!"

"I'll come every day if you want me," said Dickon firmly. "It's the most fun I ever had—waking up a secret garden!"

"If you do help me make the garden alive I—I don't know what I'll do," said Mary. What could you do for a boy like Dickon?

"I'll tell you what you can do. You'll get stronger and hungry as a young fox, and learn to talk to the birds like I do. We'll have a lot of fun," Dickon said with his wide smile.

He walked around, looking at the trees and bushes thoughtfully. They talked about what flowers they would plant. They agreed that they didn't want a clean, neat looking garden. They wanted it to look wild, and natural, and filled with many kinds of flowers. Sitting on the ground, Mary said, "Dickon, you are as nice as Martha said. I like you, and that makes five people. I never thought I would like five people. When I was in India, I hated everyone."

Dickon looked just like Martha, with his round blue eyes and red cheeks. "You only like five people?" he said cheerfully. "Who are the other four?"

"Your mother and Martha, and the robin and Ben Weatherstaff," said Mary.

Dickon laughed so loudly that he put his hand over his mouth. "Well, I know you think I'm a strange boy," he said, "but I think you're the strangest girl I ever knew."

Then Mary did something she had never done before. She leaned forward and said, "Do you like me?"

"Oh, of course! I like you a lot, and so does that robin, I think!"

The robin had flown into the garden and was sitting in a tree, watching them and singing.

Suddenly Mary heard a loud bell ringing. This meant that it was time for lunch. "Oh, no—I have to go in and eat lunch. I'm hungry, but I don't want to go," she said.

"Run along and eat. I'll be here when you get back. I'll give the robin a bit of my sandwich. He'll like a bit of bread!" Dickon said.

Mary almost felt that Dickon was a magic person, who would disappear when she left him. He seemed too good to be true. She slowly walked to the garden door, but then turned around.

"Dickon—whatever happens, you never would tell anyone, would you?"

"Now, if you were a little bird, and you showed me your nest, do you think I'd tell anyone?" he asked. "You're as safe as a bird with me."

And Mary knew she was.

(end of section)