Chapter 5 A Cry in the House For a while, every day was like Mary's first.
Martha would bring her breakfast and help her dress.
Mary would complain more than she ate.
Then she'd go outside to explore the gardens.
But after several days, she woke up feeling hungry.
"'It tastes nice today,' she said of her porridge.
It's the fresh moor air that's given you an appetite, said Martha.
You keep playing outdoors.
It'll soon put flesh on your bones and color in your cheeks.
I have nothing to play with, Mary replied.
You've got sticks and stones, Martha exclaimed.
My brothers and sisters play with what they can find.
They run and shout and look at things.
Mary did look at things in the gardens.
Sometimes she saw Ben Weatherstaff, but he was always too busy to pay attention to her.
She discovered a long walkway outside the garden walls where thick ivy grew.
Mary found a place at the end of the walkway where the ivy was extra thick and bushy.
She wondered why it had not been trimmed like the rest.
One day she was staring up at a long tendril of ivy swinging in the wind.
Suddenly she saw a flash of red, the robin red breast perched atop the wall.
Oh, she cried out, is it you?
It didn't seem odd to talk to him.
He twittered and chirped back.
To Mary it seemed that he was saying, good morning, and inviting her to come along with him.
Mary laughed.
She ran after him as he hopped and took short flights.
I like you, she cried out.
She made chirping sounds and tried to whistle, and the robin seemed pleased.
He flew up to a treetop to sing, behind the orchard wall on the other side of the garden.
He must live in the garden without a door, she thought.
She ran up the path and back through the kitchen gardens to the orchard.
She went straight to the wall where she had first seen him.
There he was, just finishing his concert.
"'It is the secret garden,' she said to herself.
"'I am sure it is.'
She searched again for a door in the orchard wall, but still found nothing.
So she ran all the way back to the long path that wound along the ivy-covered wall.
She walked up and down, searching very carefully.
Still, no door.
That night, Martha chatted amiably while Mary ate.
Mary didn't mind listening to her now.
When Mary finished her supper, she and Martha sat near the fireplace.
The wind was howling outside.
It banged at the windows like an invisible giant trying to break in.
But by the fire, they felt safe and warm.
Mary asked, Why did Mr. Craven hate that garden?
Although hesitant, Martha tried to explain.
It was his wife's, and she loved it.
Mr. and Mrs. Craven tended the flowers themselves.
None of the gardeners ever went in.
The two of them would stay there for hours just reading and talking.
In it was an old tree with a branch that bent like a seed.
Mrs. Craven liked to sit there.
But one day the branch broke and she fell.
She was hurt so badly that she died the next day.
That's why Mr. Craven hates it.
Mrs. Medlock says nobody can talk about it or about lots of other things.
Mary fell silent.
She was thinking about Mr Craven and how sad he must be when just then she heard a curious sound like a child crying.
She was sure that it was coming from inside.
Do you hear that? she asked.
Martha looked confused.
She said, It's the wind.
Sometimes it sounds like someone's lost on the moor, crying for help.
But it's here, Mary insisted, down one of the corridors.
At that instant, a strong gust blew open Mary's door with a crash.
The light went out.
The sound of crying grew louder than ever.
I told you, Mary shouted.
Someone is crying, and it isn't a grown-up.
Martha jumped up.
Then they both heard a door somewhere being banged shut.
It must be the new kitchen maid crying, Martha said stubbornly.
She has an awful toothache.
Mary stared hard at Martha.
Inside, she knew that Martha was not telling the truth.
