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Presently
an
old
man
with
a
spade
over
his
shoulder
walked
through
the
door
leading
from
the
second
garden
.
He
looked
startled
when
he
saw
Mary
,
and
then
touched
his
cap
.
He
had
a
surly
old
face
,
and
did
not
seem
at
all
pleased
to
see
her
—
but
then
she
was
displeased
with
his
garden
and
wore
her
“
quite
contrary
”
expression
,
and
certainly
did
not
seem
at
all
pleased
to
see
him
.
“
What
is
this
place
?
”
she
asked
.
“
One
o
’
th
’
kitchen
-
gardens
,
”
he
answered
.
“
What
is
that
?
”
said
Mary
,
pointing
through
the
other
green
door
.
“
Another
of
’
em
,
”
shortly
.
“
There
’
s
another
on
t
’
other
side
o
’
th
’
wall
an
’
there
’
s
th
’
orchard
t
’
other
side
o
’
that
.
”
“
Can
I
go
in
them
?
”
asked
Mary
.
“
If
tha
’
likes
.
But
there
’
s
nowt
to
see
.
”
Mary
made
no
response
.
She
went
down
the
path
and
through
the
second
green
door
.
There
,
she
found
more
walls
and
winter
vegetables
and
glass
frames
,
but
in
the
second
wall
there
was
another
green
door
and
it
was
not
open
.
Perhaps
it
led
into
the
garden
which
no
one
had
seen
for
ten
years
.
As
she
was
not
at
all
a
timid
child
and
always
did
what
she
wanted
to
do
,
Mary
went
to
the
green
door
and
turned
the
handle
.
She
hoped
the
door
would
not
open
because
she
wanted
to
be
sure
she
had
found
the
mysterious
garden
—
but
it
did
open
quite
easily
and
she
walked
through
it
and
found
herself
in
an
orchard
.
There
were
walls
all
round
it
also
and
trees
trained
against
them
,
and
there
were
bare
fruit
-
trees
growing
in
the
winter
-
browned
grass
—
but
there
was
no
green
door
to
be
seen
anywhere
.
Mary
looked
for
it
,
and
yet
when
she
had
entered
the
upper
end
of
the
garden
she
had
noticed
that
the
wall
did
not
seem
to
end
with
the
orchard
but
to
extend
beyond
it
as
if
it
enclosed
a
place
at
the
other
side
.
She
could
see
the
tops
of
trees
above
the
wall
,
and
when
she
stood
still
she
saw
a
bird
with
a
bright
red
breast
sitting
on
the
topmost
branch
of
one
of
them
,
and
suddenly
he
burst
into
his
winter
song
—
almost
as
if
he
had
caught
sight
of
her
and
was
calling
to
her
.
She
stopped
and
listened
to
him
and
somehow
his
cheerful
,
friendly
little
whistle
gave
her
a
pleased
feeling
—
even
a
disagreeable
little
girl
may
be
lonely
,
and
the
big
closed
house
and
big
bare
moor
and
big
bare
gardens
had
made
this
one
feel
as
if
there
was
no
one
left
in
the
world
but
herself
.
If
she
had
been
an
affectionate
child
,
who
had
been
used
to
being
loved
,
she
would
have
broken
her
heart
,
but
even
though
she
was
“
Mistress
Mary
Quite
Contrary
”
she
was
desolate
,
and
the
bright
-
breasted
little
bird
brought
a
look
into
her
sour
little
face
which
was
almost
a
smile
.
She
listened
to
him
until
he
flew
away
.
He
was
not
like
an
Indian
bird
and
she
liked
him
and
wondered
if
she
should
ever
see
him
again
.
Perhaps
he
lived
in
the
mysterious
garden
and
knew
all
about
it
.
