-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
-
- Таинственный сад
-
- Стр. 20/235
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
It
had
not
been
the
custom
that
Mistress
Mary
should
do
anything
but
stand
and
allow
herself
to
be
dressed
like
a
doll
,
but
before
she
was
ready
for
breakfast
she
began
to
suspect
that
her
life
at
Misselthwaite
Manor
would
end
by
teaching
her
a
number
of
things
quite
new
to
her
—
things
such
as
putting
on
her
own
shoes
and
stockings
,
and
picking
up
things
she
let
fall
.
If
Martha
had
been
a
well
-
trained
fine
young
lady
’
s
maid
she
would
have
been
more
subservient
and
respectful
and
would
have
known
that
it
was
her
business
to
brush
hair
,
and
button
boots
,
and
pick
things
up
and
lay
them
away
.
She
was
,
however
,
only
an
untrained
Yorkshire
rustic
who
had
been
brought
up
in
a
moorland
cottage
with
a
swarm
of
little
brothers
and
sisters
who
had
never
dreamed
of
doing
anything
but
waiting
on
themselves
and
on
the
younger
ones
who
were
either
babies
in
arms
or
just
learning
to
totter
about
and
tumble
over
things
.
If
Mary
Lennox
had
been
a
child
who
was
ready
to
be
amused
she
would
perhaps
have
laughed
at
Martha
’
s
readiness
to
talk
,
but
Mary
only
listened
to
her
coldly
and
wondered
at
her
freedom
of
manner
.
At
first
she
was
not
at
all
interested
,
but
gradually
,
as
the
girl
rattled
on
in
her
good
-
tempered
,
homely
way
,
Mary
began
to
notice
what
she
was
saying
.
“
Eh
!
you
should
see
’
em
all
,
”
she
said
.
“
There
’
s
twelve
of
us
an
’
my
father
only
gets
sixteen
shilling
a
week
.
I
can
tell
you
my
mother
’
s
put
to
it
to
get
porridge
for
’
em
all
.
They
tumble
about
on
th
’
moor
an
’
play
there
all
day
an
’
mother
says
th
’
air
of
th
’
moor
fattens
’
em
.
She
says
she
believes
they
eat
th
’
grass
same
as
th
’
wild
ponies
do
.
Our
Dickon
,
he
’
s
twelve
years
old
and
he
’
s
got
a
young
pony
he
calls
his
own
.
”
“
Where
did
he
get
it
?
”
asked
Mary
.
“
He
found
it
on
th
’
moor
with
its
mother
when
it
was
a
little
one
an
’
he
began
to
make
friends
with
it
an
’
give
it
bits
o
’
bread
an
’
pluck
young
grass
for
it
.
And
it
got
to
like
him
so
it
follows
him
about
an
’
it
lets
him
get
on
its
back
.
Dickon
’
s
a
kind
lad
an
’
animals
likes
him
.
”
Mary
had
never
possessed
an
animal
pet
of
her
own
and
had
always
thought
she
should
like
one
.
So
she
began
to
feel
a
slight
interest
in
Dickon
,
and
as
she
had
never
before
been
interested
in
anyone
but
herself
,
it
was
the
dawning
of
a
healthy
sentiment
.
When
she
went
into
the
room
which
had
been
made
into
a
nursery
for
her
,
she
found
that
it
was
rather
like
the
one
she
had
slept
in
.
It
was
not
a
child
’
s
room
,
but
a
grown
-
up
person
’
s
room
,
with
gloomy
old
pictures
on
the
walls
and
heavy
old
oak
chairs
.
A
table
in
the
center
was
set
with
a
good
substantial
breakfast
.
But
she
had
always
had
a
very
small
appetite
,
and
she
looked
with
something
more
than
indifference
at
the
first
plate
Martha
set
before
her
.
“
I
don
’
t
want
it
,
”
she
said
.
“
Tha
’
doesn
’
t
want
thy
porridge
!
”
Martha
exclaimed
incredulously
.
