Chapter One No One Left When Mary Lennox was born, no one really wanted her.
Her father worked for the British government in India and had no time for raising a child.
Mary's beautiful mother hadn't wanted a little girl at all.
She cared only about going to parties.
So their sickly, fretful baby was handed over to an ayah, an Indian nanny.
Mary's ayah knew that the baby's crying made her mother angry, so to keep Mary quiet, she let her have her own way in everything.
Mary grew up as selfish a child as had ever lived.
Her thin face looked yellow and her expression was sour as a lemon.
Even her blonde hair wouldn't behave.
Governesses were hired to teach the cross child to read and write, but they never lasted longer than a few months.
Except for her ayah and the servants, Mary hardly ever saw other people, not even her mother.
One blazing hot morning, when Mary was nine, she was awakened by an unknown servant.
She wanted her Aya, but her Aya couldn't come.
Even when Mary had a tantrum, the servant just looked frightened and repeated her message.
Mary knew something strange was happening, but no one would tell her what.
Left alone, she went outside to play under a tree near the veranda.
She was making a pretend flowerbed when she heard her mother's voice speaking with a young army officer.
They didn't notice the little girl, but Mary saw that her mother was alarmed.
Is it so very bad? her mother asked.
Awfully, the officer replied.
You should have left two weeks ago, Mrs. Lennox, instead of staying for the ball.
Just then, Mary heard a shout from the servants' quarters that grew louder and wilder.
Someone has died, the officer said, his voice shaking.
Mary's mother gasped and ran inside.
Later, Mary found out that a dread disease, cholera, had broken out.
Her ayah had been the first to die, and many others were in danger.
In a panic, many of the servants ran away in terror, leaving no one to care for Mary.
For two whole days, Mary hid in the nursery.
Off and on she cried and slept.
She could hear odd, frightening sounds in the house and from the servants' huts.
In the confusion, everyone had forgotten about her.
The next day, Mary wandered into the dining room and ate some biscuits and fruit.
She also drank a glass of tonic someone had left on the table.
It was like medicine, and it made her drowsy.
She went back to her room and fell into a deep sleep.
Mary finally awoke to silence and lay on her bed and listened for noises, but the house was perfectly still.
Then she heard a rustling on the floor mat.
Looking down, she saw a little snake.
She wasn't afraid of him, knowing he was harmless.
She watched him glide across the floor and slip under her door.
Were they alone in the house, she wondered.
Then she heard heavy footsteps on the veranda and men talking in low voices.
One man said, What a shame, that beautiful woman dead.
I heard there was a child, too, but no one ever saw her.
Just then, Mary's door opened.
Mary stood up, and an army officer came in, looking weary and troubled.
Stiffly, the child said in a cross voice, I am Mary Lennox.
I fell asleep when everyone had cholera and I just woke up.
Stamping her foot, she demanded, why have they forgotten me?
Why does nobody come?
A younger soldier with the officer just shook his head sadly and held Mary's hand.
Poor little kid, there's nobody left to come.
This was the strange, sudden way Mary found out that both her parents and most of the servants had died.
There really was no one left but herself and the rustling little snake.
