Chapter XXVI. "It's Mother!"

The Secret Garden

by Francis Hodgson Burnett

Their belief in the Magic was an abiding thing. After the
morning's incantations Colin sometimes gave them Magic lectures.

"I like to do it," he explained, "because when I grow up and
make great scientific discoveries I shall be obliged to lecture about
them and so this is practise. I can only give short lectures now
because I am very young, and besides Ben Weatherstaff would feel as
if he were in church and he would go to sleep."

"Th' best thing about lecturin'," said Ben, "is that a chap can
get up an' say aught he pleases an' no other chap can answer him
back. I wouldn't be agen' lecturin' a bit mysel' sometimes."

But when Colin held forth under his tree old Ben fixed devouring
eyes on him and kept them there. He looked him over with critical
affection. It was not so much the lecture which interested him as
the legs which looked straighter and stronger each day, the boyish
head which held itself up so well, the once sharp chin and hollow
cheeks which had filled and rounded out and the eyes which had begun
to hold the light he remembered in another pair. Sometimes when Colin
felt Ben's earnest gaze meant that he was much impressed he wondered
what he was reflecting on and once when he had seemed quite entranced
he questioned him.

"What are you thinking about, Ben Weatherstaff?" he asked.

"I was thinkin'" answered Ben, "as I'd warrant tha's, gone up
three or four pound this week. I was lookin' at tha' calves an' tha'
shoulders. I'd like to get thee on a pair o' scales."

"It's the Magic and--and Mrs. Sowerby's buns and milk and
things," said Colin. "You see the scientific experiment has
succeeded."

That morning Dickon was too late to hear the lecture. When he
came he was ruddy with running and his funny face looked more
twinkling than usual. As they had a good deal of weeding to do after
the rains they fell to work. They always had plenty to do after a
warm deep sinking rain. The moisture which was good for the flowers
was also good for the weeds which thrust up tiny blades of grass and
points of leaves which must be pulled up before their roots took too
firm hold. Colin was as good at weeding as any one in these days and
he could lecture while he was doing it. "The Magic works best when
you work, yourself," he said this morning. "You can feel it in your
bones and muscles. I am going to read books about bones and muscles,
but I am going to write a book about Magic. I am making it up now. I
keep finding out things."

It was not very long after he had said this that he laid down
his trowel and stood up on his feet. He had been silent for several
minutes and they had seen that he was thinking out lectures, as he
often did. When he dropped his trowel and stood upright it seemed to
Mary and Dickon as if a sudden strong thought had made him do it. He
stretched himself out to his tallest height and he threw out his arms
exultantly. Color glowed in his face and his strange eyes widened
with joyfulness. All at once he had realized something to the
full.

"Mary! Dickon!" he cried. "Just look at me!"

They stopped their weeding and looked at him.

"Do you remember that first morning you brought me in here?" he
demanded.

Dickon was looking at him very hard. Being an animal charmer he
could see more things than most people could and many of them were
things he never talked about. He saw some of them now in this boy.
"Aye, that we do," he answered.

Mary looked hard too, but she said nothing.

"Just this minute," said Colin, "all at once I remembered it
myself--when I looked at my hand digging with the trowel--and I had
to stand up on my feet to see if it was real. And it is real! I'm
well--I'm well!"

"Aye, that th' art!" said Dickon.

"I'm well! I'm well!" said Colin again, and his face went quite
red all over.

He had known it before in a way, he had hoped it and felt it and
thought about it, but just at that minute something had rushed all
through him--a sort of rapturous belief and realization and it had
been so strong that he could not help calling out.

"I shall live forever and ever and ever!" he cried grandly. "I
shall find out thousands and thousands of things. I shall find out
about people and creatures and everything that grows--like
Dickon--and I shall never stop making Magic. I'm well! I'm well! I
feel--I feel as if I want to shout out something--something thankful,
joyful!"

Ben Weatherstaff, who had been working near a rose-bush, glanced
round at him.

"Tha' might sing th' Doxology," he suggested in his dryest
grunt. He had no opinion of the Doxology and he did not make the
suggestion with any particular reverence.

But Colin was of an exploring mind and he knew nothing about the
Doxology.

"What is that?" he inquired.

"Dickon can sing it for thee, I'll warrant," replied Ben
Weatherstaff.

Dickon answered with his all-perceiving animal charmer's
smile.

"They sing it i' church," he said. "Mother says she believes
th' skylarks sings it when they gets up i' th' mornin'."

"If she says that, it must be a nice song," Colin answered.
"I've never been in a church myself. I was always too ill. Sing it,
Dickon. I want to hear it."

Dickon was quite simple and unaffected about it. He understood
what Colin felt better than Colin did himself. He understood by a
sort of instinct so natural that he did not know it was
understanding. He pulled off his cap and looked round still
smiling.

"Tha' must take off tha' cap," he said to Colin," an' so mun
tha', Ben--an' tha' mun stand up, tha' knows."

Colin took off his cap and the sun shone on and warmed his thick
hair as he watched Dickon intently. Ben Weatherstaff scrambled up
from his knees and bared his head too with a sort of puzzled
half-resentful look on his old face as if he didn't know exactly why
he was doing this remarkable thing.

Dickon stood out among the trees and rose-bushes and began to
sing in quite a simple matter-of-fact way and in a nice strong boy
voice:

          "Praise God from whom all blessings flow,         
 Praise Him all creatures here below,          Praise Him above ye 
Heavenly Host,          Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.           
           Amen."

When he had finished, Ben Weatherstaff was
standing quite still with his jaws set obstinately but with a
disturbed look in his eyes fixed on Colin. Colin's face was
thoughtful and appreciative.

"It is a very nice song," he said. "I like it. Perhaps it
means just what I mean when I want to shout out that I am thankful to
the Magic." He stopped and thought in a puzzled way. "Perhaps they
are both the same thing. How can we know the exact names of
everything? Sing it again, Dickon. Let us try, Mary. I want to sing
it, too. It's my song. How does it begin? `Praise God from whom all
blessings flow'?"

And they sang it again, and Mary and Colin lifted their voices
as musically as they could and Dickon's swelled quite loud and
beautiful--and at the second line Ben Weatherstaff raspingly cleared
his throat and at the third line he joined in with such vigor that it
seemed almost savage and when the "Amen" came to an end Mary observed
that the very same thing had happened to him which had happened when
he found out that Colin was not a cripple--his chin was twitching and
he was staring and winking and his leathery old cheeks were wet.

"I never seed no sense in th' Doxology afore," he said hoarsely,
"but I may change my mind i' time. I should say tha'd gone up five
pound this week Mester Colin--five on 'em!"

Colin was looking across the garden at something attracting his
attention and his expression had become a startled one.

"Who is coming in here?" he said quickly. "Who is it?"

The door in the ivied wall had been pushed gently open and a
woman had entered. She had come in with the last line of their song
and she had stood still listening and looking at them. With the ivy
behind her, the sunlight drifting through the trees and dappling her
long blue cloak, and her nice fresh face smiling across the greenery
she was rather like a softly colored illustration in one of Colin's
books. She had wonderful affectionate eyes which seemed to take
everything in--all of them, even Ben Weatherstaff and the "creatures"
and every flower that was in bloom. Unexpectedly as she had
appeared, not one of them felt that she was an intruder at all.
Dickon's eyes lighted like lamps.

"It's mother--that's who it is!" he cried and went across the
grass at a run.

Colin began to move toward her, too, and Mary went with him.
They both felt their pulses beat faster.

"It's mother!" Dickon said again when they met halfway. "I
knowed tha' wanted to see her an' I told her where th' door was
hid."

Colin held out his hand with a sort of flushed royal shyness but
his eyes quite devoured her face.

"Even when I was ill I wanted to see you," he said, "you and
Dickon and the secret garden. I'd never wanted to see any one or
anything before."

The sight of his uplifted face brought about a sudden change in
her own. She flushed and the corners of her mouth shook and a mist
seemed to sweep over her eyes.

"Eh! dear lad!" she broke out tremulously. "Eh! dear lad!" as
if she had not known she were going to say it. She did not say,
"Mester Colin," but just "dear lad" quite suddenly. She might have
said it to Dickon in the same way if she had seen something in his
face which touched her. Colin liked it.

"Are you surprised because I am so well?" he asked. She put her
hand on his shoulder and smiled the mist out of her eyes. "Aye, that
I am!" she said; "but tha'rt so like thy mother tha' made my heart
jump."

"Do you think," said Colin a little awkwardly, "that will make
my father like me?"

"Aye, for sure, dear lad," she answered and she gave his
shoulder a soft quick pat. "He mun come home--he mun come home."

"Susan Sowerby," said Ben Weatherstaff, getting close to her.
"Look at th' lad's legs, wilt tha'? They was like drumsticks i'
stockin' two month' ago--an' I heard folk tell as they was bandy an'
knock-kneed both at th' same time. Look at 'em now!"

Susan Sowerby laughed a comfortable laugh.

"They're goin' to be fine strong lad's legs in a bit," she said.
"Let him go on playin' an' workin' in the garden an' eatin' hearty
an' drinkin' plenty o' good sweet milk an' there'll not be a finer
pair i' Yorkshire, thank God for it."

She put both hands on Mistress Mary's shoulders and looked her
little face over in a motherly fashion.

"An' thee, too!" she said. "Tha'rt grown near as hearty as our
'Lisabeth Ellen. I'll warrant tha'rt like thy mother too. Our
Martha told me as Mrs. Medlock heard she was a pretty woman. Tha'lt
be like a blush rose when tha' grows up, my little lass, bless
thee."

She did not mention that when Martha came home on her "day out"
and described the plain sallow child she had said that she had no
confidence whatever in what Mrs. Medlock had heard. "It doesn't
stand to reason that a pretty woman could be th' mother o' such a
fou' little lass," she had added obstinately.

Mary had not had time to pay much attention to her changing
face. She had only known that she looked "different" and seemed to
have a great deal more hair and that it was growing very fast. But
remembering her pleasure in looking at the Mem Sahib in the past she
was glad to hear that she might some day look like her.

Susan Sowerby went round their garden with them and was told the
whole story of it and shown every bush and tree which had come alive.
Colin walked on one side of her and Mary on the other. Each of them
kept looking up at her comfortable rosy face, secretly curious about
the delightful feeling she gave them--a sort of warm, supported
feeling. It seemed as if she understood them as Dickon understood
his "creatures." She stooped over the flowers and talked about them
as if they were children. Soot followed her and once or twice cawed
at her and flew upon her shoulder as if it were Dickon's. When they
told her about the robin and the first flight of the young ones she
laughed a motherly little mellow laugh in her throat.

"I suppose learnin' 'em to fly is like learnin' children to
walk, but I'm feared I should be all in a worrit if mine had wings
instead o' legs," she said.

It was because she seemed such a wonderful woman in her nice
moorland cottage way that at last she was told about the Magic.

"Do you believe in Magic?" asked Colin after he had explained
about Indian fakirs. "I do hope you do."

"That I do, lad," she answered. "I never knowed it by that name
but what does th' name matter? I warrant they call it a different
name i' France an' a different one i' Germany. Th' same thing as set
th' seeds swellin' an' th' sun shinin' made thee a well lad an' it's
th' Good Thing. It isn't like us poor fools as think it matters if us
is called out of our names. Th' Big Good Thing doesn't stop to
worrit, bless thee. It goes on makin' worlds by th' million--worlds
like us. Never thee stop believin' in th' Big Good Thing an' knowin'
th' world's full of it--an' call it what tha' likes. Tha' wert
singin' to it when I come into th' garden."

"I felt so joyful," said Colin, opening his beautiful strange
eyes at her. "Suddenly I felt how different I was--how strong my
arms and legs were, you know--and how I could dig and stand--and I
jumped up and wanted to shout out something to anything that would
listen."

"Th' Magic listened when tha' sung th' Doxology. It would ha'
listened to anything tha'd sung. It was th' joy that mattered. Eh!
lad, lad--what's names to th' Joy Maker," and she gave his shoulders
a quick soft pat again.

She had packed a basket which held a regular feast this morning,
and when the hungry hour came and Dickon brought it out from its
hiding place, she sat down with them under their tree and watched
them devour their food, laughing and quite gloating over their
appetites. She was full of fun and made them laugh at all sorts of
odd things. She told them stories in broad Yorkshire and taught them
new words. She laughed as if she could not help it when they told
her of the in- creasing difficulty there was in pretending that Colin
was still a fretful invalid.

"You see we can't help laughing nearly all the time when we are
together," explained Colin. "And it doesn't sound ill at all. We
try to choke it back but it will burst out and that sounds worse than
ever."

"There's one thing that comes into my mind so often," said Mary,
"and I can scarcely ever hold in when I think of it suddenly. I keep
thinking suppose Colin's face should get to look like a full moon.
It isn't like one yet but he gets a tiny bit fatter every day--and
suppose some morning it should look like one--what should we do!"

"Bless us all, I can see tha' has a good bit o' play actin' to
do," said Susan Sowerby. "But tha' won't have to keep it up much
longer. Mester Craven'll come home."

"Do you think he will?" asked Colin. "Why?"

Susan Sowerby chuckled softly.

"I suppose it 'ud nigh break thy heart if he found out before
tha' told him in tha' own way," she said. "Tha's laid awake nights
plannin' it."

"I couldn't bear any one else to tell him," said Colin. "I think
about different ways every day, I think now I just want to run into
his room." "That'd be a fine start for him," said Susan Sowerby.
"I'd like to see his face, lad. I would that! He mun come back
--that he mun."

One of the things they talked of was the visit they were to make
to her cottage. They planned it all. They were to drive over the
moor and lunch out of doors among the heather. They would see all
the twelve children and Dickon's garden and would not come back until
they were tired.

Susan Sowerby got up at last to return to the house and Mrs.
Medlock. It was time for Colin to be wheeled back also. But before
he got into his chair he stood quite close to Susan and fixed his
eyes on her with a kind of bewildered adoration and he suddenly
caught hold of the fold of her blue cloak and held it fast.

"You are just what I--what I wanted," he said. "I wish you were
my mother--as well as Dickon's!"

All at once Susan Sowerby bent down and drew him with her warm
arms close against the bosom under the blue cloak--as if he had been
Dickon's brother. The quick mist swept over her eyes.

"Eh! dear lad!" she said. "Thy own mother's in this 'ere very
garden, I do believe. She couldna' keep out of it. Thy father mun
come back to thee--he mun!"