Chapter Four Gardens and a Gardener Mary went through the little gate into a big garden.
It had wide lawns and winding paths, trees, flower beds, and an old gray fountain.
But everything was bare and there was no water in the fountain.
At the end of a path, she came to a wall with a green door.
It opened into another walled garden.
Another open door led to yet another walled garden.
Mary didn't know that these were kitchen gardens for growing fruit, vegetables, and herbs.
They were certainly ugly in the middle of winter, she thought.
She was still exploring when an old man came through one of the doors.
He carried a spade over his shoulder.
He didn't seem at all happy to see Mary.
In her quite sharp voice, she asked, What is this place?
Gruffly, he answered, A kitchen garden.
There's another beyond that door and an orchard on the other side of that.
Can I go play in them?
Mary asked.
If you want, but there's nothing to see.
Mary turned away and walked to the next green door.
She entered a garden with beds of winter vegetables, some covered by glass frames.
She found another wall with a green door which was closed.
Could it be the garden that no one had entered for ten years?
Mary grabbed the door handle, hoping it wouldn't open.
But the handle gave way.
She entered an orchard of bare fruit trees.
Walls surrounded the orchard, but no more doors.
She noticed that one wall seemed to go beyond the orchard.
Maybe it led to something on the other side.
On a treetop behind the wall, a robin redbreast was perching.
He burst into his winter song.
Mary perked up.
The bird's friendly little whistle made her feel better, and she almost smiled.
When he flew away, she wondered if she would see him again.
Perhaps he lived in the mysterious locked garden.
Mary was very curious about the locked garden.
If Mr. Craven had loved his wife, why did he hate her garden?
She walked back to the first kitchen garden and crept up on the old man who was digging.
"'I visited the orchard,' she reported.
"'But there's no door to the garden on the other side of the wall,' she said crossly.
"'I did see a bird with a red breast and a treetop singing.'
The old man began to whistle and then Mary heard a little rustle.
A bird flew over to them.
He perched on a clot of dirt near the gardener's foot.
It was wonderful.
The old man stopped digging.
He asked the bird, Where have you been, you cheeky little fellow?
Have you been courting this early in the year?
The bird hopped and pecked the ground for seeds and insects.
He seemed sprightly and cheerful, and Mary started to feel the same way as she watched him.
Does he always come when you whistle?
She asked.
Aye, the gardener said.
I've known him since he was a chick.
He flew over from the other garden.
But he was too weak to fly back for a few days.
That's when we got friendly.
He's a robin redbreast.
They're the friendliest, most curious birds alive.
See?
He knows we're talking about him.
He's a stuck-up wolf. the gardener chuckled.
Where's his family?
Mary asked.
Don't know.
When he was strong enough to fly back to his nest, his brood had gone.
But he's smart.
He knew he was lonely, and he flew back to me.
Mary took a step nearer the robin and looked at him very intently.
I'm lonely, she confided.
Until then, she had only felt cross, but didn't know why.
The gardener stared at her.
"'Coming here from India?
It's no wonder,' he said.
Then he began to dig again.
"'What's your name?'
Mary asked.
"'Ben Weatherstaff,' he said.
"'I'm lonely, too, except when he's around, he's my only friend.'
I've never had a friend, Mary said.
You and me are a good bit alike, Ben Weatherstaff said.
We both have faces like sour pickles, and we both act as sour as we look.
Same nasty tempers, I guess.
No one had ever spoken so plainly to Mary.
She wondered if she really did look as sour as he said.
A clear, rippling sound broke through her thoughts.
The robin had flown into an apple tree nearby and was singing.
Old Ben laughed.
He wants to make friends with you.
Mary looked up at the robin.
In a voice as soft and eager as any child's, she said, Would you make friends with me?
Would you?
You said that so nice and human.
Ben exclaimed, almost like Dickon when he talks to the wild creatures on the moor.
Do you know Dickon?
Everybody knows him.
Mary wanted to know more, but just then the robin spread his wings and flew away.
Mary watched him go.
She cried out, he's flown into the garden with no door.
He lives there, Ben said.
Maybe he's courting some lady robin who lives in the old rose trees.
Are there roses in the garden?
Mary asked.
She had seen roses in India.
There were ten years ago, Ben mumbled to himself.
Where's the door?
Mary asked.
Nowhere anyone can find, Ben said roughly.
And it's nobody's business.
Don't you go poking your nose where it doesn't belong.
Get on now and play.
I've got work to do.
Then he hoisted his spade onto his shoulder and trudged away.
