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- Стр. 107/235
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“
Is
it
dead
?
”
he
interrupted
her
.
“
It
soon
will
be
if
no
one
cares
for
it
,
”
she
went
on
.
“
The
bulbs
will
live
but
the
roses
—
”
He
stopped
her
again
as
excited
as
she
was
herself
.
“
What
are
bulbs
?
”
he
put
in
quickly
.
“
They
are
daffodils
and
lilies
and
snowdrops
.
They
are
working
in
the
earth
now
—
pushing
up
pale
green
points
because
the
spring
is
coming
.
”
“
Is
the
spring
coming
?
”
he
said
.
“
What
is
it
like
?
You
don
’
t
see
it
in
rooms
if
you
are
ill
.
”
“
It
is
the
sun
shining
on
the
rain
and
the
rain
falling
on
the
sunshine
,
and
things
pushing
up
and
working
under
the
earth
,
”
said
Mary
.
“
If
the
garden
was
a
secret
and
we
could
get
into
it
we
could
watch
the
things
grow
bigger
every
day
,
and
see
how
many
roses
are
alive
.
Don
’
t
you
see
?
Oh
,
don
’
t
you
see
how
much
nicer
it
would
be
if
it
was
a
secret
?
”
He
dropped
back
on
his
pillow
and
lay
there
with
an
odd
expression
on
his
face
.
“
I
never
had
a
secret
,
”
he
said
,
“
except
that
one
about
not
living
to
grow
up
.
They
don
’
t
know
I
know
that
,
so
it
is
a
sort
of
secret
.
But
I
like
this
kind
better
.
”
