It　was　the　lock　of　the　door　which　had　been　closed　ten　years　and　she　put　her　hand　in　her　pocket；　drew　out　the　key　and　found　it　fitted　the　keyhole。　　She　put　the　key　in　and　turned　it。　　It　took　two　hands　to　do　it；　but　it　did　turn。
  And　then　she　took　a　long　breath　and　looked　behind　her　up　the　long　walk　to　see　if　any　one　was　coming。　No　one　was　coming。　　No　one　ever　did　come；　it　seemed；　and　she　took　another　long　breath；　because　she　could　not　help　it；　and　she　held　back　the　swinging　curtain　of　ivy　and　pushed　back　the　door　which　opened　slowlyslowly。
  Then　she　slipped　through　it；　and　shut　it　behind　her；　and　stood　with　her　back　against　it；　looking　about　her　and　breathing　quite　fast　with　excitement；　and　wonder；　and　delight。
  She　was　standing　inside　the　secret　garden。
  CHAPTER　IX
  THE　STRANGEST　HOUSE　ANY　ONE　EVER　LIVED　IN
  It　was　the　sweetest；　most　mysterious…looking　place　any　one　could　imagine。　　The　high　walls　which　shut　it　in　were　covered　with　the　leafless　stems　of　climbing　roses　which　were　so　thick　that　they　were　matted　together。　Mary　Lennox　knew　they　were　roses　because　she　had　seen　a　great　many　roses　in　India。　　All　the　ground　was　covered　with　grass　of　a　wintry　brown　and　out　of　it　grew　clumps　of　bushes　which　were　surely　rosebushes　if　they　were　alive。　There　were　numbers　of　standard　roses　which　had　so　spread　their　branches　that　they　were　like　little　trees。　There　were　other　trees　in　the　garden；　and　one　of　the　things　which　made　the　place　look　strangest　and　loveliest　was　that　climbing　roses　had　run　all　over　them　and　swung　down　long　tendrils　which　made　light　swaying　curtains；　and　here　and　there　they　had　caught　at　each　other　or　at　a　far…reaching　branch　and　had　crept　from　one　tree　to　another　and　made　lovely　bridges　of　themselves。　There　were　neither　leaves　nor　roses　on　them　now　and　Mary　did　not　know　whether　they　were　dead　or　alive；　but　their　thin　gray　or　brown　branches　and　sprays　looked　like　a　sort　of　hazy　mantle　spreading　over　everything；　walls；　and　trees；　and　even　brown　grass；　where　they　had　fallen　from　their　fastenings　and　run　along　the　ground。　　It　was　this　hazy　tangle　from　tree　to　tree　which　made　it　all　look　so　mysterious。　Mary　had　thought　it　must　be　different　from　other　gardens　which　had　not　been　left　all　by　themselves　so　long；　and　indeed　it　was　different　from　any　other　place　she　had　ever　seen　in　her　life。
  〃How　still　it　is！〃　she　whispered。　　〃How　still！〃
  Then　she　waited　a　moment　and　listened　at　the　stillness。　The　robin；　who　had　flown　to　his　treetop；　was　still　as　all　the　rest。　　He　did　not　even　flutter　his　wings；　he　sat　without　stirring；　and　looked　at　Mary。
  〃No　wonder　it　is　still；〃　she　whispered　again。　　〃I　am　the　first　person　who　has　spoken　in　here　for　ten　years。〃
  She　moved　away　from　the　door；　stepping　as　softly　as　if　she　were　afraid　of　awakening　some　one。　　She　was　glad　that　there　was　grass　under　her　feet　and　that　her　steps　made　no　sounds。　She　walked　under　one　of　the　fairy…like　gray　arches　between　the　trees　and　looked　up　at　the　sprays　and　tendrils　which　formed　them。　　〃I　wonder　if　they　are　all　quite　dead；〃　she　said。　　〃Is　it　all　a　quite　dead　garden？　I　wish　it　wasn't。〃
  If　she　had　been　Ben　Weatherstaff　she　could　have　told　whether　the　wood　was　alive　by　looking　at　it；　but　she　could　only　see　that　there　were　only　gray　or　brown　sprays　and　branches　and　none　showed　any　signs　of　even　a　tiny　leaf…bud　anywhere。
  But　she　was　inside　the　wonderful　garden　and　she　could　come　through　the　door　under　the　ivy　any　time　and　she　felt　as　if　she　had　found　a　world　all　her　own。
  The　sun　was　shining　inside　the　four　walls　and　the　high　arch　of　blue　sky　over　this　particular　piece　of　Misselthwaite　seemed　even　more　brilliant　and　soft　than　it　was　over　the　moor。　　The　robin　flew　down　from　his　tree…top　and　hopped　about　or　flew　after　her　from　one　bush　to　another。　He　chirped　a　good　deal　and　had　a　very　busy　air；　as　if　he　were　showing　her　things。　　Everything　was　strange　and　silent　and　she　seemed　to　be　hundreds　of　miles　away　from　any　one；　but　somehow　she　did　not　feel　lonely　at　all。　All　that　troubled　her　was　her　wish　that　she　knew　whether　all　the　roses　were　dead；　or　if　perhaps　some　of　them　had　lived　and　might　put　out　leaves　and　buds　as　the　weather　got　warmer。　　She　did　not　want　it　to　be　a　quite　dead　garden。　If　it　were　a　quite　alive　garden；　how　wonderful　it　would　be；　and　what　thousands　of　roses　would　grow　on　every　side！
  Her　skipping…rope　had　hung　over　her　arm　when　she　came　in　and　after　she　had　walked　about　for　a　while　she　thought　she　would　skip　round　the　whole　garden；　stopping　when　she　wanted　to　look　at　things。　　There　seemed　to　have　been　grass　paths　here　and　there；　and　in　one　or　two　corners　there　were　alcoves　of　evergreen　with　stone　seats　or　tall　moss…covered　flower　urns　in　them。
  As　she　came　near　the　second　of　these　alcoves　she　stopped　skipping。　　There　had　once　been　a　flowerbed　in　it；　and　she　thought　she　saw　something　sticking　out　of　the　black　earth…　…some　sharp　little　pale　green　points。　She　remembered　what　Ben　Weatherstaff　had　said　and　she　knelt　down　to　look　at　them。
  〃Yes；　they　are　tiny　growing　things　and　they　might　be　crocuses　or　snowdrops　or　daffodils；〃　she　whispered。
  She　bent　very　close　to　them　and　sniffed　the　fresh　scent　of　the　damp　earth。　　She　liked　it　very　much。
  〃Perhaps　there　are　some　other　ones　coming　up　in　other　places；〃　she　said。　　〃I　will　go　all　over　the　garden　and　look。〃
  She　did　not　skip；　but　walked。　　She　went　slowly　and　kept　her　eyes　on　the　ground。　　She　looked　in　the　old　border　beds　and　among　the　grass；　and　after　she　had　gone　round；　trying　to　miss　nothing；　she　had　found　ever　so　many　more　sharp；　pale　green　points；　and　she　had　become　quite　excited　again。
  〃It　isn't　a　quite　dead　garden；〃　she　cried　out　softly　to　herself。　〃Even　if　the　roses　are　dead；　there　are　other　things　alive。〃
  She　did　not　know　anything　about　gardening；　but　the　grass　seemed　so　thick　in　some　of　the　places　where　the　green　points　were　pushing　their　way　through　that　she　thought　they　did　not　seem　to　have　room　enough　to　grow。　She　searched　about　until　she　found　a　rather　sharp　piece　of　wood　and　knelt　down　and　dug　and　weeded　out　the　weeds　and　grass　until　she　made　nice　little　clear　places　around　them。
  〃Now　they　look　as　if　they　could　breathe；〃　she　said；　after　she　had　finished　with　the　first　ones。　　〃I　am　going　to　do　ever　so　many　more。　　I'll　do　all　I　can　see。　If　I　haven't　time　today　I　can　come　tomorrow。〃
  She　went　from　place　to　place；　and　dug　and　weeded；　and　enjoyed　herself　so　immensely　that　she　was　led　on　from　bed　to　bed　and　into　the　grass　under　the　trees。　The　exercise　made　her　so　warm　that　she　first　threw　her　coat　off；　and　then　her　hat；　and　without　knowing　it　she　was　smiling　down　on　to　the　grass　and　the　pale　green　points　all　the　time。
  The　robin　was　tremendously　busy。　　He　was　very　much　pleased　to　see　gardening　begun　on　his　own　estate。　He　had　often　wondered　at　Ben　Weatherstaff。　　Where　gardening　is　done　all　sorts　of　delightful　things　to　eat　are　turned　up　with　the　soil。　　Now　here　was　this　new　kind　of　creature　who　was　not　half　Ben's　size　and　yet　had　had　the　sense　to　come　into　his　garden　and　begin　at　once。
  Mistress　Mary　worked　in　her　garden　until　it　was　time　to　go　to　her　midday　dinner。　　In　fact；　she　was　rather　late　in　remembering；　and　when　she　put　on　her　coat　and　hat；　and　picked　up　her　skipping…rope；　she　could　not　believe　that　she　had　been　working　two　or　three　hours。　She　had　been　actually　happy　all　the　time；　and　dozens　and　dozens　of　the　tiny；　pale　green　points　were　to　be　seen　in　cleared　places；　looking　twice　as　cheerful　as　they　had　looked　before　when　the　grass　and　weeds　had　been　smothering　them。
  〃I　shall　come　back　this　afternoon；〃　she　said；　looking　all　round　at　her　new　kingdom；　and　speaking　to　the　trees　and　the　rose…bushes　as　if　they　heard　her。
  Then　she　ran　lightly　across　the　grass；　pushed　open　the　slow　old　door　and　slipped　through　it　under　the　ivy。　She　had　such　red　cheeks　and　such　bright　eyes　and　ate　such　a　dinner　that　Martha　was　delighted。
  〃Two　pieces　o'　meat　an'　two　helps　o'　rice　puddin'！〃　she　said。　〃Eh！　mother　will　be　pleased　when　I　tell　her　what　th'　skippin'…rope's　done　for　thee。〃
  In　the　course　of　her　digging　with　her　pointed　stick　Mistress　Mary　had　found　herself　digging　up　a　sort　of　white　root　rather　like　an　onion。　　She　had　put　it　back　in　its　place　and　patted　the　earth　carefully　down　on　it　and　just　now　she　wondered　if　Martha　could　tell　her　what　it　was。
  〃Martha；〃　she　said；　〃what　are　those　white　roots　that　look　like　onions？〃
  〃They're　bulbs；〃　answered　Martha。　　〃Lots　o'　spring　flowers　grow　from　'em。　Th'　very　little　ones　are　snowdrops　an'　crocuses　an'　th'　big　ones　are　narcissuses　an'　jonquils　and　daffydowndillys。　　Th'　biggest　of　all　is　lilies　an'　purple　flags。　　Eh！　they　are　nice。　　Dickon's　got　a　whole　lot　of　'em　planted　in　our　bit　o'　garden。〃
  〃Does　Dickon　know　all　about　them？〃　asked　Mary；　a　new　idea　taking　possession　of　her。
  〃Our　Dickon　can　make　a　flower　grow　out　of　a　brick　walk。　Mother　says　he　just　whispers　things　out　o'　th'　ground。〃
  〃Do　bulbs　live　a　long　time？　Would　they　live　years　and　years　if　no　one　helped　them？〃　inquired　Mary　anxiously。
  〃They're　things　as　helps　themselves；〃　said　Martha。　　〃That's　why　poor　folk　can　afford　to　have　'em。　If　you　don't　trouble　'em；　most　of　'em'll　work　away　underground　for　a　lifetime　an'　spread　out　an'　have　li