“I don’t know what you both mean,” said Mary with an exasperated laugh. She looked around at the sunlight falling on the garden, the giant green ferns and protective ancient trees. “But this place—this garden—it’s amazing.” She longed to explore some more, but just then, she heard the faint sound of a bell ringing and Mrs. Medlock calling her name from far away.

“I’m going to have to go,” she said in frustration, putting the key in her pocket. “But I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise. I need to have a look at your leg, Jemima. I hope it’s going to heal.” A thought struck her. “Now how do I get out of here?”

Jemima woofed and trotted away into a nearby copse of trees. Mary followed her and found that she was back where she had started. Picking up her coat and bag, she put them on, then scrambled up the bank to the base of the wall. She began to climb. At one point, her foot slipped, but she felt a branch suddenly meet it and boost her upward. Her eyes widened. It was almost as though the tree was helping her! It seemed impossible, but Mary was beginning to think anything could happen in this enchanting abandoned garden!

At the top of the wall, she paused for a moment and looked back. The garden stretched out like a secret kingdom. What a wonderful, amazing place. . . .

“Mary!” she heard Mrs. Medlock shout.

With a sigh, Mary swung her leg over the wall and scrambled down. On this side—the house side—everything seemed so much duller, so much grayer. Here a dog would be just a dog and a robin just a robin, but Mary didn’t mind. She knew that the garden would be waiting for her—and her heart sang.

Mary was so excited about the garden that she didn’t even care when Mrs. Medlock scolded her severely for returning late with her new coat all covered in mud.

“Look at you, girl! You’ve got dirt all over you. Your hair’s matted—and wet!”

Mary shrugged. “Mr. Craven said to play. Well, I’ve been playing.”

A little while later, as she lay in the steaming bath, soaking away the dirt, Mary looked at the key that she had smuggled into the bathroom. Why had Jemima and the robin wanted her to find it? Maybe there was a door into the garden and this key unlocked it. She felt like she was going to burst with her secret. If only there was someone she could tell. . . .

She thought of her cousin Colin lying in his bed upstairs. Her other secret. Maybe she would tell him about the garden. In fact, he might know about it already. After all, Colin had lived at Misselthwaite his entire life.