Таинственный сад / The secret garden

“You thought I was a native! You dared! You don’t know anything about natives! They are not people-they’re just servants. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!”

She was in such a rage and felt so helpless, that she threw herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing. Martha went to the bed and bent over her.

“Eh! You mustn’t cry like that!” she begged. “Yes, I don’t know anything about anything-just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss.

There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer Yorkshire speech. Mary gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.

“It’s time for you to get up now,” she said. “Mrs. Medlock said to carry your breakfast and tea and dinner into the room next to this. I’ll help you with your clothes.”

When Mary at last decided to get up, the clothes Martha took from the wardrobe were not hers.

“Those are not mine,” she said.

She looked at the thick white wool coat and dress, and added with cool approval:

“Those are nicer than mine.”

“Mr. Craven ordered Mrs. Medlock to get in London for you,” Martha answered. “He said he did not like black clothes.”

“I hate black things, too,” said Mary.

Martha helped to dress her little sisters and brothers but she never saw a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for her.

“Why don’t you put on your own shoes?” she said when Mary quietly held out her foot.

“My Ayah did it,” answered Mary, staring. “It was the custom.”

“Eh! You did not see my family,” Martha said. “We are twelve, and my father only gets sixteen shilling a week. My mother cooks porridge for them all. They tumble about on the moor and play there all day. Our Dickon is twelve years old and he’s got a young pony.”

“Where did he get it?” asked Mary.

“He found it on the moor and he began to make friends with it and give it bits of bread and some grass.

Mary did not have an animal pet of her own. So she began to feel a slight interest in Dickon. When she went into the next room, she found that it was a grown-up person’s room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs. There was a good substantial breakfast on the table in the center.