On and on the train went, until they pulled into a station and transferred to a car driven by an unsmiling, gruff man. As they drove away from the station, Mary fell asleep. When she woke up, she saw an endless expanse of gray on either side of the car. She had never seen anything like it. “Is that the sea?” she asked as she looked at the clouds swirling across the top.

“The sea! What a foolish thing to say, girl. Out there are the moors,” snorted Mrs. Medlock. “Be sure to stay inside when the mist is rolling or you may not find your way home.”

From her tone of voice, it sounded as if she didn’t think that would be a bad thing. Mary’s lips tightened. She had the strong feeling that Mrs. Medlock didn’t want her at Misselthwaite any more than she wanted to be there. Well, she can stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of hers, she thought fiercely. All I want is to be left alone.

They drove on and on along the narrow strip of road that cut across the moors, past heather, sheep, and wild ponies. Occasionally, through the shroud of mist, Mary thought she saw the glow of orange and red flames flickering weakly, and once, she was sure she caught sight of a group of raggedly dressed people trudging beside a pony and cart, but as she looked more closely, the mist closed in and the shadowy figures vanished from sight.

It seemed as if the journey would never end, but finally they turned down a long drive. Parkland stretched away on either side until it merged with the moors. At the end of the drive was an enormous stone manor house with sharp turrets silhouetted against the twilight sky. A single weak light shone out of an upstairs window.

“There it is,” Mrs. Medlock announced with a touch of pride in her voice as she looked at the dark, forbidding fortress of a house. “Misselthwaite.”

As the car swept through the gates, Mary noticed a robin perched on one of the pillars. For a moment, it seemed to look straight at Mary, and then it flew away.

The car stopped. Mary gazed up at the vast house and felt a shiver run through her. It looked like the kind of place where ghosts and phantoms walked at night.

“This is your home now,” said Mrs. Medlock. “Thanks to your uncle’s kindness.” She fixed Mary with a stern look. “Now, when you see him, you’re not to stare, girl. Do you understand?”

Mary was puzzled. Why ever did Mrs. Medlock think she would stare at her uncle?