CHAPTER TWELVE

MEETING UNCLE ARCHIBALD

Quickly Mary ran back to her rooms. Her lunch was waiting, and Martha was there with it. "Martha, I've seen Dickon! He brought me those garden tools and seeds!" Mary cried as she sat down.

"I knew he'd come. What do you think of him?"

"I think—I think he's beautiful," said Mary firmly.

Martha laughed. "Well, we always thought he was wonderful, but we never thought he was handsome. His nose turns up too much."

"I don't care. I like it. I like everything about him," said Mary.

"Where are you going to plant your seeds?" asked Martha.

Mary was nervous. She hoped Martha wouldn't ask too many questions about this! "Well ... I haven't asked where I can plant them yet," she said.

"Well, don't ask the head gardener, Mr Roach. He's too busy. I'd ask Ben Weatherstaff, if I were you. He might look cross, but he's really a nice man. Mr Craven lets him do what he likes, because Ben and Mrs Craven were very good friends. Ben used to make her laugh, says Mr Craven. Perhaps Ben can find you a little piece of land somewhere."

Mary ate her lunch as quickly as she could. Just as she was about to put on her coat and run back outside, Mrs Medlock entered the room.

"Martha, help the child to put on her best dress. Mr Craven is going away tomorrow for a long time, and he wants to see her before he goes. I'll come back in ten minutes," she said. She looked nervous and excited, and immediately left the room.

Mary was terrified. Why did her uncle want to see her? What would she say to him? Probably he would not like her, and she would not like him. They would sit there in silence.

Martha helped her to dress and brush her hair. When Mrs Medlock returned, she took Mary to a part of the house she had never been to before. At last Mrs Medlock knocked on a large, strong door. "Come in," Mary heard someone say, and they entered the room. Mary was trembling.

"This is Miss Mary, sir," said Mrs Medlock.

"You can leave now, Mrs Medlock. I will ring the bell when I want you to take her away," said the man.

Now he and Mary were alone. Mary stood there, a thin, plain child. She bit her lip. She noticed that her uncle didn't have a lump on his back after all. "Basil just made that up," she thought. Uncle Archibald was very thin and pale, and had black hair with many white streaks. He looked sad and tired.

"Come here," he said. Mary went to him. His face might have been handsome, but it was extremely unhappy. He looked worried and nervous, as he stared at Mary. At the same time, he seemed to be thinking about other things.

"Are you well?" he asked her.

"Yes," said Mary.

"Do they take care of you?"

"Yes," said Mary. She didn't know what to say.

"You are very thin," he said. "I forgot about you. How could I remember you? I meant to find you a teacher or a nurse, but I forgot."

"Please," Mary began, but could not say any more. She thought she might cry.

"What do you want to say?" asked her uncle.

"Please don't make me have a teacher just yet. And I am too big for a nurse," said Mary softly.

Her uncle stared at her and looked thoughtful. "That was what the Sowerby woman said. I saw her in the village one day, and she spoke to me about you."

"She is Martha's mother, isn't she?" asked Mary. "She knows about children. She has twelve of them."

"What would you like to do instead?" asked her uncle.

Mary felt a little braver, but she was still afraid of him. "I want—I want to play outside," she whispered. "I am getting fatter and stronger. I like it here more than in India. There I was always sick and thin. Here, I run around, and look to see what is growing in the gardens. I won't make any trouble, I promise, sir," she said.

"Don't look so frightened," he said in a worried voice. "Of course you don't make trouble. You may do what you want."

"Can I?" Mary said. She looked him in the eyes for the first time.

"Of course you can. You are only a little girl, and I am your guardian. I am a bad guardian for a child, because I am always sick and busy and unhappy. But I want you to be happy and comfortable. I don't know anything about children, but Mrs Medlock and Martha will make sure you have what you need. Now that I have seen you, I think Mrs Sowerby was right. She was brave to speak to me, but she said intelligent things. Play outside as much as you like. You may go wherever you want. Is there anything you want? Toys, books, or clothes?"

"Please, sir," said Mary shyly, looking at the ground, "Could I have a small piece of land?"

Her uncle looked very surprised.

"Land!" he said. "What do you mean?"

"To make a small garden—to plant things—to watch them grow," whispered Mary.

Her uncle walked slowly across the room. He seemed to be remembering something, or thinking about something. "Do you care about gardens so much?"

"I never knew about them in India. In India I was too hot and tired all the time. But here, it is different," said Mary.

Her uncle's sad eyes were kind as he looked at her. "You may have as much land as you like. You remind me of someone else who loved gardens, and things that grow. When you see a piece of land you want, take it, child, and make it come alive."

"May I take it from anywhere, if no one wants it?"

"Anywhere," he said. "Now you must go, I am tired." He rang a bell, to call Mrs Medlock. When Mrs Medlock came, he said, "Mrs Medlock, I have decided that the child should not begin lessons right now. Let her play outside as much as she wants. Give her simple, healthy food. Don't watch her too closely," he said.

Mrs Medlock was secretly happy. She hadn't wanted a little girl to take care of, and had seen Mary as little as possible. "Thank you, sir. I understand," she said.

"Take Miss Mary away now," said Mr Craven.

They went back to Mary's room, where Mary was left alone with Martha. "Martha, I can have a garden!" she cried. "And I don't have to have a teacher for a long time. He spoke with your mother and she said I shouldn't. I can do what I want. I can go to your mother's house and she may come to see me!"

"Ah, I'm glad. That was nice of him, wasn't it?" said Martha happily.

"Martha, he really is a very nice man," said Mary seriously. "He looks so terribly sad, though."

She ran to the secret garden as quickly as she could. She hadn't meant to be away for so long. She knew Dickon might not be there, because he had to walk five miles back home before dark. When she opened the garden door, no one was there. But then she saw a little piece of paper attached to one of the trees. On the paper was a picture of a bird in its nest, and these words:

"I will come back."

How she liked that boy! She couldn't wait for tomorrow.

(end of section)