Mary led Dickon down the path to the place where the ivy grew thickly on the garden wall.
Dickon felt as if he were being taken to look at a rare bird's nest and must move softly.
When Mary stepped to the wall and lifted the hanging ivy, Dickon jumped back.
There was a door!
Mary slowly opened it, and they walked into the garden.
"Here is the secret garden.
I'm the only one in the world who wants it to be alive."
"This is a strange, pretty place," he whispered.
"It's like we're in a dream."
For two or three minutes, Dickon simply stood there looking at the garden.
Then he began to walk around softly.
He walked even more lightly than Mary had walked the first time she had entered the garden.
"I never thought I'd see this place," he said at last in a whisper.
"Did you know about it?" asked Mary in her normal voice.
Dickon made a sign to her.
"We must talk quietly, or someone will hear us and wonder what's going on in here."
"Oh, I forgot!" said Mary, feeling frightened and putting her hand quickly to her mouth.
"Did you know about the garden?" she asked again quietly.
Dickon nodded. "Martha told me. We used to imagine what it was like."
He stopped and gazed in wonder at the tangle of climbing roses in the trees.
"Oh, the bird nests that will be here in springtime!
It'll be the safest nesting place in England."
Mary put her hand on his arm. "Will there be roses?" she whispered.
"I thought perhaps they were all dead."
"No. Not all of them. Look here." Dickon stepped over to a rose bush.
He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut a lifeless-looking stem.
"There's still green in that wood. Look at it."
Mary was down on her knees in a moment.
"When it looks a bit greenish and juicy like that, it's alive."
He cut another stem.
"But when the inside is dry and breaks easily like this, it's done for.
There's a big root here.
If it's cared for, there'll be a fountain of roses this summer."
Mary smiled brightly. The roses were alive!
The robin followed them as they went from bush to bush and from tree to tree.
Dickon knew how to cut away the dry wood and could tell when a stem still had life in it.
Within half an hour, Mary thought she could tell too.
Mary's new gardening tools proved quite handy.
Dickon showed her how to use the fork, while he dug about roots to let the air in.
They were busy working around a big rose bush, when he caught sight of something.
"Who did that?" He pointed to one of Mary's own clearings around the pale green points.
"I did."
"Why, I thought you didn't know anything about gardening."
"I don't. But they were so little, and they looked as if they had no room to breathe.
So I made space for them. I don't even know what they are."
"You did exactly the right thing," said Dickon, kneeling next to the tiny plants.
"A gardener couldn't have told you better.
They're crocuses and snowdrops and daffodils."
They agreed that there was a lot of work to be done and that Dickon would come to help her every day.
"I wouldn't want to make the garden look too neat," he said cautiously.
"No, it wouldn't seem like a secret garden if it was too tidy."
"This is a secret garden, sure enough, but I think someone else besides the robin has been working in here.
Some pruning has been done more recently than ten years ago."
"But how could anyone get in?" Mary was puzzled.
Dickon shrugged his shoulders. "Let's plant your seeds."
Mary held the seeds, while Dickon loosened the earth.
"You're just as nice as Martha said you were," she said, smiling at him.
"Now I like five people: you, Martha, your mother, Ben, and the robin."
"Only five people!" Dickon laughed so hard he had to put his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.
"Do you like me?" Mary asked quietly.
"I do. And so does the robin."
He nodded toward the bird, who was perched on a tree nearby.
"That's two for me then." She looked pleased.
Just then the big clock in the courtyard struck Mary's lunch hour.
"I have to go," she said sadly.
She started toward the door but turned around.
"Whatever happens, you would never tell anyone about the secret garden, would you?"
"If you were a bird and showed me where your nest was, I'd never tell," Dickon promised.
"Your secret is safe with me."
And Mary was quite sure it was.