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“
I
am
Mary
Lennox
.
Mr
.
Craven
is
my
uncle
.
”
“
He
is
my
father
,
”
said
the
boy
.
“
Your
father
!
”
gasped
Mary
.
“
No
one
ever
told
me
he
had
a
boy
!
Why
didn
’
t
they
?
”
“
Come
here
,
”
he
said
,
still
keeping
his
strange
eyes
fixed
on
her
with
an
anxious
expression
.
She
came
close
to
the
bed
and
he
put
out
his
hand
and
touched
her
.
“
You
are
real
,
aren
’
t
you
?
”
he
said
.
“
I
have
such
real
dreams
very
often
.
You
might
be
one
of
them
.
”
Mary
had
slipped
on
a
woolen
wrapper
before
she
left
her
room
and
she
put
a
piece
of
it
between
his
fingers
.
“
Rub
that
and
see
how
thick
and
warm
it
is
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
will
pinch
you
a
little
if
you
like
,
to
show
you
how
real
I
am
.
For
a
minute
I
thought
you
might
be
a
dream
too
.
”
“
Where
did
you
come
from
?
”
he
asked
.
“
From
my
own
room
.
The
wind
wuthered
so
I
couldn
’
t
go
to
sleep
and
I
heard
someone
crying
and
wanted
to
find
out
who
it
was
.
What
were
you
crying
for
?
”
