Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven The Miser's Nest

For two or three minutes he stood looking around, Mary watching him, and then he moved with soft steps, even lighter than when Mary herself first became aware that she was inside the four walls.His eyes seemed to take in everything—grey trees covered with gray creepers hanging from their branches, walls tangled in grass, evergreens making gazebos with stone benches, stilts The vase stands tall. "I never thought I'd see this place," he whispered at last. "You knew it before?" Mary asked. She spoke loudly, and he gestured to her. "We have to keep our voices low," he said, "or someone will hear us and wonder what's going on here."

"Oh! I forgot!" said Mary, terrified, and flung her hands over her mouth. "You knew about this garden before?" she asked again when she recovered.Dickon nodded. "Martha told me there was a garden that no one ever went into," he replied, "and we used to wonder what it was like?" He stopped and looked around at the lovely gray tangles around him, his round eyes looking strangely happy. "Ah! there'll be plenty of nests here when spring comes," said he, "and it's supposed to be the safest nesting place in England. No one ever comes near, and nests can be nested in these tangles, trees, roses. I wonder Why don't all the wilderness birds come here to build their nests?"

Miss Mary unconsciously put her hands on his arms again. "Could these be roses?" she whispered. "Do you recognize them? I thought maybe they were all dead." "Ah! No! They're not—not all of them!" he answered. "Look here!" He moved to the nearest tree—a very, very old tree with gray lichen over its bark, but holding aloft a tangled curtain of flowering branches and twigs.He took a chunky knife from his pocket and opened one of the blades. "There's a lot of dead trees here that should be cut," he said. "There's a lot of old trees here, but it grew some new ones last year. Well, there's something new here." It is greenish brown.Mary she touched it eagerly and reverently.

"That one?" she said, "Is that one doing very well?" Dickon curled his smiling mouth. "It's as spiritual as you and me," he said, and Mary replied that she remembered Martha telling her that "spirit" meant "alive" or "living." "I wish it was spirits!" she cried in a low voice. "I wish they were all spirits! Let's go all over the garden and count how many are spirits." She gasped with enthusiasm, and Dickon was as enthusiastic as she was.They go from tree to tree, bush to bush.Dickon held his knife in his hand, and showed her all kinds of things, and she thought he was great.

"They grew mad," he said, "but the strong ones thrived on it. The weaker ones died, but the others kept growing and growing and growing, spreading, spreading, until it was a spectacle. Look there!" He pulled down a thick gray, withered-looking branch. "One would think it was dead wood, but I don't believe it's dead--to the root. I'll cut down and see." He knelt down and cut through the lifeless twig with his knife, not far from the ground. "There!" he said ecstatically, "I told you. There's green in the wood. Look at it."

Before he could say anything, Mary was already on her knees, staring with all her strength. "Looking green and juicy like that, it's spiritual." He explained, "If the heart is dry, it's easy to break, like this one I cut off, it's over. There are big roots here, since there's a bunch of living things coming out here. Buds, if the dead branches are cut off, the surrounding soil is loosened, and someone takes care of it, it will be—" He stopped and looked up at the fluffy branches climbing and hanging above his head—"It will be like a fountain Roses, this summer."

They go from bush to bush, tree to tree.He was strong and deft with a knife, knew how to cut away dead vegetation, and could recognize green life in a hopeless trunk or twig.Half an hour passed, and Mary thought she recognized it, too, when he cut off a lifeless branch, and she caught a very pale wet green at the first glance, and cried out with gasped glee.Shovels, hoes, and forks are useful.He showed her how she could use the fork while he was using the shovel to dig around the roots, mixing the soil and letting the air in. They chose the largest rose grafted on the trunk and worked diligently around it. Suddenly he saw something and let out an exclamation of surprise.

"What!" He pointed at the grass a few meters away and shouted, "Who did it over there?" It was a little cleaning by Mary herself surrounded by gray and green dots. "I did," said Mary. "Why, I thought you didn't know anything about gardening," he exclaimed. "I don't know," she answered, "but they're so small, and the grass is so dense, they don't look like they have a place to breathe. So I made a place for them. I don't even know what they are." Yorkshire used to kneel beside them, smiling broadly. "You're right," he said, "a real gardener can tell you as much. Now they're going to grow like Jack's magic beans. They're crocuses and snowdrops, and there's a daffodil there," he said. Turning to another path, "Here are the daffodils. Ah! They'll be a sight."

He ran from one cleared area to another. "You've done a lot for such a small girl," he said, examining her. "I'm getting fatter," said Mary, "and I'm getting stronger. I used to get tired all the time. I never got tired when I dug. I like the smell of the upturned earth." "It's especially good for you," he said, nodding wisely. "Nothing smells like good clean soil, except rain falling on fresh plants that are growing. I've been out many times in the rain, and I lay Under the bushes, listening to the soft rustle of the heather, I sniffed and sniffed. My nose quivered like a rabbit at the end, said Mama."

"Don't you ever catch a cold?" Mary asked, staring at him as if miraculous.She had never seen such a fun boy, or so nice. "I don't," he said with a grin. "I've never caught a cold since I was born. I wasn't raised that delicately. I'm like a rabbit, chasing it across the field no matter the weather. Mom said I sucked Twelve years of fresh air, used to sucking cold air. I'm as strong as a wand with white thorns." He was working all the time, all the time he was talking, and Mary followed him, helping him with her fork and trowel. "There's a lot of work to be done here!" he said momentarily, looking about very cheerfully.

"Will you help me again?" demanded Mary. "I'm sure I can help too. I can dig and pull weeds and do anything you ask me to do. Oh! Come on, Dickon!" "I'll come every day, rain or shine, if you want," he replied firmly. "It's the best fun I've ever played—shut up here to wake up a garden." "If you come," said Mary, "if you'll help me bring it back to life I'll—I don't know what I'll do," she finished feebly.What can you do for such a boy? "I'll tell you what you can do," said Dickon, with a happy smile. "You'll grow fat, and be hungry like a young fox, and learn how to talk to a mockingbird as I do. Ah! We'll Had a lot of fun." He started walking around, looking up at the trees, at the walls and the bushes, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "If I were to, I wouldn't want to make it a gardener's garden, everything trimmed and uncluttered, don't you think?" Together." "Let's not tidy it up," said Mary nervously, "it won't look like a secret garden if it's tidy." Dickon stood there rubbing his rust-red hair, looking bewildered. "It must be a secret garden," he said, "but it appears that someone other than the robin has been here in the ten years since it was locked." "But the door is locked and the key is buried," said Mary, "and no one can get in." "Yeah," he answered, "it's a weird place. I look like someone's been doing a little pruning around, in the last ten years." "But how?" said Mary. He examines a grafted rose and shakes his head. "Yes! How can it be?" he muttered. "The door is locked and the key is buried." Miss Mary always felt that no matter how old she lived, she would never forget that morning when her garden began to grow.Of course, her garden seemed to start growing for her that morning.She remembered the song Basil had sung to her when he played tricks on her, as Dickon set about clearing the place and planting seeds. "Is there any flower that looks like a bell?" "Lily-of-the-valley is the best," he replied, digging with his trowel, "Canterbury bluebells, and all kinds of other bluebells." "Let's plant some," said Mary. "There are lilies of the valley here already, I've seen them. They get so crowded we'll have to separate them. The others don't bloom for two years from seed, but I can bring you some from our garden at home. Why do you want bell flowers?" So Mary told him of Basil and his brothers and sisters in India how she had hated them then, for calling her "Miss Mary was very stubborn." "They used to dance around me and sing to me. They sang— 'Miss Mary, very stubborn, How does your garden look like? Silver bells, cockle shells, Marigolds, in a row' I just remember the song and wondered if there really were flowers like silver bells. " She frowned, and thrust the trowel into the soil fiercely. "I'm not as hostile as they are." But Dickon laughed. "Ah!" he said, breaking up the rich black earth, and she saw him smell it. "Nobody's going to have to be against it when there's flowers and all that kind of thing around and lots and lots of friendly wild things running around and building their homes and nests and singing and whistling, right?" Mary was kneeling beside him with the seeds, watching him, and stopped frowning. "Dickon," she said, "you speak as well as Martha. I like you, and you're the fifth. I never thought I'd like five." Dickon sat up, just as Martha had scraped the grate.He did look playful and happy, thought Mary, with his round blue eyes, red cheeks, and happy nose. "You only like five?" he said. "Who are the other four?" "Your mother and Martha," Mary counted on her fingers, "Mockingbird and Ji Yuanben." Dickon laughed so loudly that he was forced to put his arm over his mouth to silence the sound. "I know you think I'm a weird guy," he said, "but I think you're the weirdest girl I've ever met." Then Mary did a strange thing.She leaned forward and asked a question she never dreamed she would ask anyone else.And she tried to ask in Yorkshire, because that was his language, and in India the natives are always glad you understand them. "Does Na like me?" she said. "Ah!" he said earnestly, "I like it. I think you are very nice, and so does the robin, and I do believe it!" "Two, then," said Mary, "that counts as my two." Then they worked harder and more joyfully.When Mary heard the big clock in the courtyard strike lunch time, she was startled and sorry. "I must go," she said mournfully, "and you must go, don't you?" Dickon grinned. "My meals are easy to carry around," he said. "Mom always asks me to keep something in my pocket." He picked up his coat from the grass, and from one of the pockets he took out a small lumpy package wrapped in a neat, rough blue-and-white handkerchief.Inside were two thick slices of bread with a thin slice of something in between. "Often just bread," said he, "but today I have a fat piece of bacon." Mary thought the meal looked odd, but it seemed he was ready to enjoy it. "Run and eat your meal," he said, "I'll finish first. I can do some more work before I go home." He sat down with his back against a tree. "I'll call the robin," said he, "and give him the hard edge of the bacon. They love a bit of oil." Mary could hardly bear to leave him.All of a sudden he seemed like some wood spirit who would disappear when she came into the garden.He's too good to be true.She walked slowly toward the door in the wall, and halfway she stopped and turned back. "Whatever happened, you—you're never going to tell?" she said. His poppy cheeks were lifted by the first mouthful of bread and bacon, but he managed to put on an encouraging smile. "If you were a thrush on Misserfield and showed me your nest, do you think I'd tell anyone? I wouldn't," said he. "You'd be as safe as a thrush." And she's pretty sure she is. 【①Jack'sbean-stalk: European mythology.There was a famine in the countryside, and the boy Jack exchanged the cows for only a few beans from the market.The bean seed is the magic bean, which grows into the sky overnight. Jack climbs up the bean stalk into the sky and sees the giant.It was the giant who took away the treasures of the hometown and caused the famine.Jack defeated the giant, regained the treasure, and returned home along the beanstalk. 】 [ ② Lily of the Valley: perennial root, herb, dark green leaves clustered in clusters, small white flowers in summer, a bunch of hanging on the flower stems, shaped like bells, very fragrant. 】