The Secret Garden Page #2

as soon

as they're out of nappies.

You'll find some

lovely new garments

in the cupboard--

warm ones, bought

by Mrs. Medlock

on Mr. Archibald's orders.

I thought he troubled

himself with no one.

He don't.

It was Mrs. Medlock who told him

you'd not have proper clothing

for the cold

since you're coming from India.

And it was she who had

these rooms fixed up

all pretty for you.

I know you's wore out

from your journey

so I hope you had a good sleep.

How could I sleep with all

that crying and moaning?

This is a haunted house,

isn't it?

It was the wind you heard

withering across the moors.

It often makes a mournful sound.

You best eat your breakfast

before it gets cold.

I don't like

English food.

I've nine little

brothers and sisters

who eat the table clean

in a minute.

Nine brothers and sisters?

Yeah.

No doubt there'd be more

if me dad hadn't

died in his prime.

Feeding that brood's

hard on me mother

but Dickon's a help.

Who's Dickon?

He's one of our

gaggle of children.

He leaves what food

there is for the others

and he feeds hisself

out in the moors.

He says the wild goats

give him their milk

and there's lovely

greens and berries

all his for the taking.

He sounds peculiar.

He's a rare

boy, Dickie.

He talks to the animals

and they talk back.

That's the silliest thing

I've ever heard.

And when he plays his pan pipe,

wild animals stop and listen.

Animals can't talk,

and theydon'tlisten to music.

I told you Dickie

was a rare boy.

I didn't dismiss you.

You'll be making

your own bed up then.

You have my permission

to go on with your work.

Queen couldn't have said it

better herself.

I have nothing to do.

There's plenty of gardens

you can go and play in

except for the one

that's locked.

How can a garden be locked?

It can if there's

a high wall 'round it.

You'd better dress

up warm if you're

going out.

March can be a cruel month

in Yorkshire.

What are you doing?

Have you got eyes?

I'm turning the earth

for planting vegetables

when the spring comes.

It doesn't surprise me

you're rude.

All the servants here

seem to be rude.

I take it...

you're the little wench

just come from India.

I'mnot a little wench.

I'm Mary Lennox.

You may call me Miss Mary

if you like.

Where are the flower gardens?

The other side.

There are no blooms

at this time of year.

Where's the locked-up garden?

There's no door into it

so you can save yourself

the trouble of looking.

Of course there's a door.

If there wasn't a door

it wouldn't be locked.

Don't go poking your nose

where it's no cause to go.

I think everyone in Yorkshire's

mad as a hatter.

(bird chirping)

Ahh...

You cheeky little beggar.

Has you started courting

this early in the season?

(singing)

He answered you!

Considers hisself

my friend.

I never had any friends.

Then we're

a good deal alike--

neither of us

good-looking

and each of us as

sour as we look.

Do you think he'd mind

being my friend, too?

If you'll be my friend,

I'll be yours.

(singing)

You said that as

nice and human

as Dickon talks to

his wild creatures.

YouknowDickon?

The very...

blackberries and

heather bells know Dickon.

The foxes show him

where their cubs lies.

The skylarks don't hide

their nests from him.

(clears throat)

Off with you.

I've work to do.

I think I'll go look

for the door

into the locked garden.

All you find

is brambles and thorns.

We shall see...

shan't we?

(whimpers)

You're Dickon, aren't you?

Aye.

I was waiting for

you, Miss Mary.

How do you know my name?

And how did you know I was...

going to be here

when I didn't even know, myself?

Sometimes wishing

makes things happen.

The crow is Soot.

The fox is Captain.

The lamb is Lady.

The squirrel is Nut.

And the rabbits

just happened

to be passing.

Those are strange names

for animals.

It's what they

asked to be called.

Animals and birds can't talk.

There's ways of talking

that don't take words.

I've gathered some

wild mustard seeds

for Ben Weatherstaff.

So if you don't mind company

I'll walk back to the manor

with you.

You're sad and lonely now

but in time,

you'll find happiness

in Misselthwaite Manor.

No.

I shall never be happy there.

And I don't want your company,

nor anyone else's.

(wind whipping)

Your bed's turned down,

and the room's all cozy.

Listen to that wind.

I looked for the door into

the locked garden again today

but I couldn't find it.

Why trouble yourself

when there's so many

other gardens you

can go and play in?

I like to know about things.

Why was that garden locked up?

But for that garden,

Mr. Archibald wouldn't

be the way he is.

What do you mean?

You'll not repeat

what I tell you?

You know I have no one

to talk to except you.

All right, then,

but mind you

I'm only telling you

what Mrs. Medlock said.

'Cause this happened long

before I came to work here.

Mrs. Craven had

that garden made

when she first came to

Misselthwaite as a bride.

And she and Mr. Archibald

would shut themselves inside

for hours and hours

like two lovebirds.

Well, if the garden

was such a happy place

why was it locked up?

Because it's where

the accident happened.

There was an old tree

in the garden

with a high branch,

bent like a seat.

And Mrs. Craven--

Lilias was her name--

she loved to climb up

and sit on the branch

and read when

she was alone.

Well, one day,

the branch broke

and she hurt herself so bad,

she died the next day.

And Mr. Craven was

so wild with grief

that he locked up the garden

and threw away the key?

That's what

Mrs. Medlock said.

But how didyouknow?

I didn't.

You just told me.

If there's a key...

there must be a door.

AndIintend to find it.

(thumping)

(disembodied moaning)

Someone must have left the door

open downstairs

to cause

such a terrible draft.

You heard it, too,

didn't you?

I heard what?

Someone crying.

I told you.

The wind often makes

a mournful sound.

No, it wasn't the wind.

It was human.

And if it wasn't human,

it was a ghost.

It was the wind you heard,

wuthering across the moors.

Good night, Miss Mary.

(disembodied moaning)

(moaning grows louder)

(shrieking)

Morning, Mr.

Weatherstaff.

From my mother.

She baked

this morning.

My thanks to her.

There's nobody bakes better

bread than Susan Sowerby.

She'll be pleased

to hear that.

Not a day

she don't go looking

for the door

into the locked garden.

But she won't find it.

It is better so.

Have you ever been in the

garden, Mr. Weatherstaff?

We'll not talk

about that garden.

Well, Miss Mary

won't give up.

There's a stubbornness in her.

But there's also a need.

I'm off.

See you about,

Mr. Weatherstaff.

I have nothing to do

when it rains.

Mrs. Medlock has

wool to spare.

You could knit.

I don't know how.

You could read.

I haven't any books.

Oh, there's thousands of books

in Mr. Archibald's library.

Mrs. Medlock said

I wasn't to go anywhere

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