Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen "I Won't!" Says Mary

They found so much to do that morning, and Mary was late at the house, and hurried back to work, completely forgetting about Colin until the last moment. "Tell Colin I can't see him for a while," she said to Martha, "I'm very busy in the garden." Martha looked rather frightened. "Ah! Miss Mary," said she, "I might spoil his mind very much by telling him so." But Mary wasn't as afraid of him as the others, and she wasn't a self-sacrificing person. "I can't stay," she answered, "Dickon is waiting for me." She ran away.

Afternoons are even lovelier and busier than mornings.Almost all weeds have been cleared from the garden and the soil around most roses and trees has been loosened.Dickon had brought his own shovel, and he had earlier shown Mary how to use all her implements, so that by now it was evident that this lovely field would probably not be a "gardener's garden," but rather in A place where all things grow and wild things bloom before spring is over. "There'll be apple and cherry blossoms overhead," said Dickon, working hard, "and peach and plum trees against the walls, and the grass will be a carpet of flowers."

The little fox and the little crow were as busy and happy as they were, and the robin and his daughter-in-law flew forward and backward like tiny bolts of lightning.Sometimes the crow flapped its wings and flew up to the treetops in the public park.Every time it came back to perch near Dickon, it would croak a few times, as if telling its adventures, and Dickon talked to it like a robin.Once Dickon was too busy to answer it at first, and the soot flew up his shoulders and pinched his ear gently with the beak shell.Mary wanted to rest, and Dickon sat down with her under the tree, and once he took his flute out of his pocket, and played a soft and strange little tune, and two squirrels appeared on the wall, noting, and listening.

"You're stronger and better than you were," said Dickon, watching her dig. "You're starting to look different, absolutely." Mary's face was flushed with exercise and good spirits. "I'm gaining weight every day," she said cheerfully. "Mrs. Medlock's going to get me bigger clothes. Martha says my hair is thicker. It's not so flat and twine-like." The sun began to set, sending out deep golden rays, slanting under the trees, and they parted. "It'll be fine tomorrow," said Dickon, "and I'll be at work before the sun comes up."

"Me too," said Mary. She ran back into the house as fast as she could without touching her feet.She wanted to tell Colin, Dickon's fox cub and crow, what spring was like.She thought he would love to hear it.So when she opens the door to her room and sees Martha standing there waiting for her, looking sad, it's not a very pleasant scene. "What's the matter?" she asked. "You told Colin I couldn't go. What did he say?" "Ah!" said Martha, "I wish you would. He's about to lose his temper. A nurse has been quieting him all afternoon. He's probably been looking at his watch."

Mary's lips twisted together.Like Colin, she doesn't think about others. She doesn't see any reason for a bad-tempered boy to interfere with what she loves the most.She didn't know anything about poor people, people who were always sick and nervous, didn't know that they could control their temper without making other people sick and nervous too.When she had a headache in India, she used to try to see that other people had headaches, or something just as bad.She thought she was right, but now she naturally felt that Colin was wrong. He was not on the sofa when she entered his room.He was lying straight on the bed, and he didn't turn his head to her when she came in.It was a bad start, and Mary marched bluntly toward him.

"Why don't you get up?" she said. "I got up this morning thinking you were coming," he answered, without looking at her. "I had them put me back in bed in the afternoon. My back hurts, my headache, I'm tired. Why didn't you come?" "I was working with Dickon in the garden," said Mary. Colin frowned and looked at her condescendingly. "I wouldn't let that boy come here if you go out and be with him instead of talking to me," he said. Mary was furious.She could be furious without saying a word.She just becomes hostile and stubborn and doesn't care what happens.

"If you drive Dickon away, I'll never go into this house!" she shot back. "You must come if I want you," said Colin. "I won't!" said Mary. "I'll let you come," said Colin, "and they'll drag you in." "Will they, my lord!" said Mary, furiously. "They may drag me in, but they can't make me talk after I'm in. I'll sit here, gritting my teeth, and tell you Don't say a word. I won't even look at you. I'll stare at the floor!" When they glared at each other, they made a perfect couple.If they were two street boys, they would have jumped on each other and had a scuffle.Since that was the case, they settled for the next best thing.

"You're a selfish man!" cried Colin. "What are you?" said Mary. "Selfish people always say that. Anyone who doesn't get their way is called selfish. You're more selfish than I am. You're the most selfish boy I've ever met." "I'm not!" Colin snapped back, "I'm not as selfish as your good Dickon! He left you to play in the mud with him, and he knows I'm all alone. He's just selfish, whether you like it or not!" Mary's eyes flashed. "He's better than any boy in the world!" she said. "He's—he's an angel!" It might sound silly, but she didn't care.

"A good angel!" Colin sneered furiously. "He's a rough peasant boy running in the moor!" "He's better than a vulgar prince!" Marie retorted, "he's a thousand times better!" Since she is the stronger of the two, she gradually gains the upper hand over him.The truth was, he had never had an argument with anyone like himself in his life, and the fight had served him well on the whole, though neither he nor Mary knew it.He turned his head toward the pillow, squeezed his eyes shut, and squeezed a large tear down his face.He gradually felt sad and pitiful for himself—not for anyone else.

"I'm not as selfish as you because I've been sick and I'm sure I've got a bump growing out of my back," he said. "I'm going to die." "You won't!" retorted Mary mercilessly. His eyes opened wide, with indignation.He had never heard anyone say such a thing.He was at once furious and slightly delighted, if one could be both. "I won't?" he cried. "I will! You know I will! Everyone says so." "I don't believe it!" said Mary gruffly. "You're just being pitiful when you say that. I believe you're proud of it. I don't believe it! If you were a good boy, it might be true—but you're too hard." Entangled!" Despite Colin's muscular back, he sat up in bed with a rather healthy rage. "Get out of the room!" he yelled, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at Mary.He didn't throw it far enough, the pillow just dropped to her feet, but Mary's face was twisted like a nutcracker. "I'm leaving," she said, "and I'm not coming back!" She walked to the door, and when her hand touched the door, she turned and said again. "I was going to tell you all sorts of interesting things," she said. "Dickon brought his fox and a crow, and I was going to tell you all about it. Now I won't tell you any of it!" She walked out boldly, the door closed behind her, and she was startled to find a professional nurse standing there, as if she had been eavesdropping, and what was even more astonishing was that she was laughing.She was a big, pretty, young girl who shouldn't have been a professional nurse at all, because she couldn't stand disabled people, and she was always making excuses to leave Colin with Martha or whoever could take her place.Mary never liked her, just stood there for nothing, staring up at her, and she was standing giggling with her handkerchief to her mouth. "What are you laughing at?" she asked her. "Laugh at you two children," said the nurse, "the best thing that can happen to this disgustingly spoiled child is to have someone who is as spoiled as him stand up against him;" she covered her handkerchief again. With a smile, "If he had a little girl as his sister and fought with him, maybe he would have been saved." "Will he die?" "I don't know, and I don't care," said the nurse. "Half his illness is hysteria and tantrums." "What's hysteria?" said Mary. "If you let him throw a tantrum next, you'll know - anyway, you've given him a reason to be hysterical, and I'm glad." Mary went back to her room with a very different feeling than when she came back from the garden.She felt unhappy and disappointed, but she had no pity for Colin.She had looked forward to telling him many things, and she wondered if it would be safe to tell him the great secret.She had slowly felt that it was okay, but now she completely changed her mind.She would never tell him that he could stay in his room, never get fresh air, and die if he wanted to!He deserves it!She felt so surly and grim that for a few minutes she almost forgot Dickon, the green veil that filled the world, and the soft wind blowing over the moor. Martha had been waiting for her, and the worry on her face was temporarily replaced by interest and curiosity.There was a wooden box on the table, the lid was removed, revealing a full and neat package. "Mr. Craven sent it to you," said Martha. "It looks like it contains picture books." Mary remembered he asked her the day she went to his room. "Do you want something—a doll—a toy—a book?" She opened the package, wondering if he had sent a doll, and wondering what she would do with it if he had. manage.He didn't send the doll, however.A couple of beautiful books, similar to Colin's, and two of them are about gardens, full of pictures.There were two or three sets of games, and a pretty little writing-box with gold monograms. Everything was so pretty, and the joy gradually pushed the anger out of her head.She didn't expect him to remember her at all, and her cold little heart became very warm. "I can write better than I can describe," she said. "The first thing I wrote with that pen was a letter to him, telling him what I owed him." If she and Colin were friends, she would immediately run to show him her gift, and they would look at pictures together, read gardening books, maybe try to play a game, and he would have fun without even thinking about it once He'd die, or put his hand up the spine to see if it was bulging.When he did that, his attitude was unbearable to her.Because he himself seemed so frightened, giving her an uncomfortable sense of dread.He said that one day he found even a small bag, and he knew that his back was beginning to become hunched.He had heard Mrs. Medlock whispering to the nurse that had given him the idea, and he had thought it over in private until it was firmly fixed in his mind.Mrs. Medlock said his father had had that stooped back when he was a boy.He never told anyone but Mary that most of the time what people called "tantrums" came from hidden fears.When he told Mary, Mary had pitied him. "When he's upset and tired, he always starts thinking about it," she said to herself. "He's been upset today. Maybe—maybe he's been thinking about it this afternoon." She sat quietly, looking down at the carpet, thinking. "I said I'd never go back—" she hesitated, frowning deeply—"but maybe, just maybe, I'll go see—if he wants me—in the morning. Maybe he'll use the pillow again Hit me, but—I think—I'll go." 【① Patterned single letter: the first letter of a person's name or surname, designed in a gorgeous and complex pattern, representing this person, Mary Lennox's patterned single letter should be M or L. Similar to Chinese seals , is also designed to be unique and printed on various things to indicate ownership. 】