The Secret Garden

You can lose a friend in springtime easier than any other season

One of the new things peo­ple be­gan to find out in the last cen­tury was that thoughts—just mere thoughts—are as pow­er­ful as elec­tric bat­ter­ies—as good for one as sun­light is, or as bad for one as poi­son.

while those whom Mary saw slunk or hur­ried about with ashy and scared faces

you may never get over it as long as you live.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

. It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

Mary did not ask any more ques­tions. She looked at the red fire and lis­tened to the wind “wutherin’.” It seemed to be “wutherin’ ” louder than ever.

“I’m lonely,” she said.

She had not known be­fore that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross. She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at her and she looked at the robin.