As it came to pass, a British diplomat and his lovely wife during English rule of India had a child, Mary Lennox. Her father involved in his job, her mother, too busy socializing to care for Mary.

Well, Mary Lennox was spoiled rotten. Her every whim was provided by Mars Ayah and the other servants. By the time Mary was six, she was as tyrannical and selfish a little brat as ever lived.

An earthquake and plague occurred, taking her parents and all the servants. Mary Lennox survived and was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle. She was disagreeable with a thin face and body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her face was yellow because she had always been sickly.

Mary was sent to England, picked up by Mrs. Medlock in a horse and carriage to Thwaite Station in Missel Moor. "Mistress Mary" arrived at Misselthwaite Manor which had many rooms, staircase and corridors. . Mary never felt so contrary in her life.

In the morning Mary opened her eyes the walls were covered with tapestry. Mary said she hated the room. A young housemaid, Martha came into her room to light the fire. Mary was puzzled. The servants she had been used to in India were not in the least like this. They did not presume to talk to their masters as if they were their equals. "Who is going to dress me?" demanded Mary.
Martha said. Can't you put on your own clothes?"
"No," answered Mary, quite indignantly. "I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course."

Mary sat up in bed furious.
"What!" she said. "What! You thought I was a native. You--you daughter of a pig!"

She was in a rage and felt so helpless and horribly lonely and far away from everything she understood. She burst into passionate tears. Before breakfast Mary began to suspect that her life at Misselthwaite Manor would teach her a number of things new to her, such as putting on her own shoes and stockings, and picking up things she let fall.

Martha told Mary about the garden. Mr. Craven had it shut when his wife died and won't let no one inside. It was her garden. He locked the door and buried the key.

Mary could not help thinking about the garden which no one had been into for ten years. She found a garden with walls all round it and it was only one of several walled gardens which seemed to open into one another.

Mary asked. an old man with a spade, "What is this place?"
"One of the kitchen-gardens," he answered. And the others are also except Mrs Craven's garden which is locked.
"What is your name?" Mary asked.
"Ben Weatherstaff," he answered.

The robin twittered and chirped and hopped along the wall as if he were telling her all sorts of things. It seemed to Mistress Mary as if she understood him, too, though he was not speaking in words.

"Ben Weatherstaff," said the robin was the only one to get inside the locked garden. The robin lived in the garden no one can go into. The robin seemed to lead Mary and wait for her to catch up, drawing her attention to an area of the wall overgrown with weeds as the rest. Pushing the brush aside, Mary found the rusted iron gate to the garden.

Later Mary persisted asking Martha "Why did Mr. Craven hate the garden?"
Then Martha gave up her secret.
That's Mr. Craven's orders. His troubles are none servants' business. It was Mrs. Craven's garden that she had made when first they were married, she just loved to tend the flowers.
But one day when she was sitting on a swing there the branch broke and she fell on the ground and was hurt so bad that next day she died.
The doctors thought he'd go out of his mind and die, too. That's why he hates it. No one's never gone in since, and he won't let any one talk about it."

The next day a rainstorm had ended and the flower bed was washed "not quite" bare. When the robin flew up into a tree nearby something like a ring of rusty iron or brass and it was an old key which looked as if it had been buried a long time. Mistress Mary looked at it with a frightened face, the key to the garden!" She went in.

The garden was the sweetest, most mysterious-looking place any one could imagine, with high walls.
"How still it is!" she whispered. "How still!"
She listened at the stillness. The robin, who had flown to his treetop, was still as all the rest.
"No wonder it is still," she whispered again. "I am the first person who has spoken in here for ten years."
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 Secret Garden that's what Mary called it. She felt that its beautiful old walls protected her and brought her peace. Mary was determined and now she had something interesting to be determined about. She tended the garden, never tiring It seemed to her like a fascinating sort of play.

Mary met Dickon, he had an almost magical ability to understand and charm animals. He knew a lot about plants as well.
Mary was not the least afraid she would not like him, though he was only a common moor boy.
A chirp came from a thick holly bush, Mary knew whose it was. "Is it really calling us?" she asked.
"Aye," said Dickon, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "he's callin' some one he's friends with. That's same as sayin' `Here I am. "Aye, he's a friend o' yours," chuckled Dickon.

Mary asked if he could keep secrets."
"I've stolen a garden," she said very fast. "It isn't mine. It isn't anybody's. Nobody wants it, nobody cares for it, nobody ever goes into it. Perhaps everything is dead in it already. I don't know."
"Come with me and I'll show you," Mary said.
"It's this," Mary said. "It's a secret garden, and I'm the only one in the world who wants it to be alive."

"I never thought I'd see this place," Dickon whispered.
"Did you know about it?" asked Mary.
"Martha told me there was one as no one ever went inside," he answered. "Us used to wonder what it was like."
Mistress Mary put her hand on his arm, asking "Will there be roses?" and questions like that.
Dickon, with his wide smile, assured her the plants would grow and showed her signs of plant life.
"Dickon," she said, "you are as nice as Martha said you were. I like you, and you make the fifth person. I never thought I should like five people."

Mary was finally brought to Mr. Craven who was quite ill but seemed really concerned about Mars welfare. He asked questions like "Do they take good care of you?"
Mr. Craven noted "You are very thin," he said. Mary answered. "I am getting fatter,".
I intended to send you a governess or a nurse, or some one of that sort, but I forgot."
"Please," began Mary. "Please--" and then the lump in her throat choked her.
"What do you want to say?" he asked. "I am--I am too big for a nurse," said Mary. "And please--please don't make me have a governess yet."
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to play out of doors," Mary said. It makes me hungry here, and I am getting fatter."
"Mrs. Sowerby said it would do you good. Perhaps it will," he said. "She thought you had better get stronger before you had a governess."
"It makes me feel strong when I play and the wind comes over the moor," argued Mary.
"May I?" she said tremulously.

"Might I," quavered Mary, "might I have a bit of earth?" "Earth!" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
"To plant seeds in--to make things grow--to see them come alive," Mary faltered.
"A bit of earth," he said to himself, and Mary thought that somehow she must have reminded him of something. When he stopped and spoke to her his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind.
"You can have as much earth as you want," he said. "You remind me of some one else who loved the earth and things that grow.
When you see a bit of earth you want," with something like a smile, "take it, child, and make it come alive."
"May I take it from anywhere--if it's not wanted?"
"Anywhere," he answered. "Good-by. I shall be away all summer."
"Mrs. Medlock," Mr. Craven said to her, "now I have seen the child I understand what Mrs. Sowerby meant.
She must be less delicate before she begins lessons.
"I can have my garden!" cried Mary. "I may have it where I like! I am not going to have a governess for a long time! Your mother is coming to see me and I may go to your cottage! He says a little girl like me could not do any harm and I may do what I like--anywhere!"
"Martha," said Mary solemnly, "he is really a nice man, only his face is so miserable and his forehead is all drawn together."

Mary took a candle and followed the corridor to the sound she had been told was the wind. It was coming from a door. She pushed it open There was a bed was lying a boy, crying fretfully.
"Who are you?" he said at last in a half-frightened whisper. "Are you a ghost?"
"No, I am not," Mary answered, her own whisper sounding half frightened. "Are you one?"
"No," he replied. "I am Colin." "I am Colin Craven. Who are you?"
"I am Mary Lennox. Mr. Craven is my uncle."
"He is my father," said the boy.
"Your father!" gasped Mary. "No one ever told me he had a boy! Why didn't they?"
Colin talked of how he had always been sick. Of he and his mother would stay in the garden. How a doctor told him he must keep out of the fresh air.
"Everyone is obliged to do what pleases me," he said indifferently. "It makes me ill to be angry. No one believes I shall live to grow up."
Mary had not known that she herself had been spoiled, but she could see quite plainly that this mysterious boy had been. He thought that the whole world belonged to him.
"Do you want to live?" asked Mary.
"No," he answered, in a cross, tired fashion. "But I don't want to die. When I feel ill I lie here and think about it until I cry and cry."
Showing Mary a picture. "She is my mother," said Colin complaining. "I don't see why she died. Sometimes I hate her for doing it."
"If she had lived I believe I should not have been ill always," he grumbled. "I dare say I should have lived, too. And my father would not have hated to look at me. I dare say I should have had a strong back.
In her talks with Colin, Mary had tried to be very cautious about the secret garden. Mary told how the outdoors made her grow stronger and fatter. If gardens and fresh air had been good for her perhaps they would be good for Colin. But then, if he hated people to look at him, perhaps he would not like to see Dickon.
Back in the garden Mary asked Dickon if he knew about Colin.
Everybody as knows about Mester Craven
"Do you think he wants to die?" whispered Mary.
"No, but he wishes he'd never been born.
That night Mary went to see Colin.
"You are a selfish thing!" cried Colin.
"What are you?" said Mary. "Selfish people always say that. Any one is selfish who doesn't do what they want. You're more selfish than I am. You're the most selfish boy I ever saw."
"I'm not!" snapped Colin. "I'm not as selfish as your fine Dickon is! He keeps you playing in the dirt when he knows I am all by myself. He's selfish, if you like!"
Mary's eyes flashed fire.
Colin was having one of his temper tantrums.
The nurse, Mrs. Medlock and Martha caught Mary in Colin room. Mrs. Medlock was furious and locked Mary in her room not knowing Mary knew of a secret way out of the room as well as into Collins room.
The next night Mary went to see Colin.
"I'll--I'll go out with you, Mary," he said. "I shan't hate fresh air if we can find--" He remembered just in time to stop himself from saying "if we can find the secret garden" and he ended, "I shall like to go out with you if Dickon will come and push my chair. I do so want to see Dickon and the fox and the crow."
The next day Colin announced his plan to go to the garden and he wanted to be left alone by the servants.

AND THAT IS WHEN THE MAGIC HAPPENED

As Dickon and Mary pushed the wheel chair towards the garden Colin became increasingly excited.
Dickon and Mary referred to Colin as "the Rajah" Dickon went on to tell of different animals as they appeared.
Colin was enchanted by all the creatures.
Mary talked enthusiastically of how the garden brings forth life.
Finally they coaxed Colin to try to walk on his own.
Not believing he could, but overtaken by the magic, Colin tried anyway. Fully expecting to fall on his face Colin slowly got up. Dickon sweetie him at first. Soon Colin could balance him self. Than take a few halting steps. A magical Colin never would have believed.
"I shall get well! I shall get well!" he cried out. "Mary! Dickon! I shall get well! And I shall live forever and ever and ever!"

Ben Weatherstaff, was on a latter over the wall of the garden. He was furious at first.
"Do you know who I am?" demanded the Rajah.
"Do you know who I am?" demanded Colin still more imperiously. "Answer!"
How Ben Weatherstaff stared! His red old eyes fixed as if he seen a ghost. In a queer shaky voice.
"Tha'--tha' hasn't got a crooked back?" he said hoarsely.
"No!" shouted Colin.
"Tha'--tha' hasn't got crooked legs?" quavered Ben more hoarsely yet.
The strength which Colin usually threw into his tantrums rushed through him now in a new way.

hen Colin returned to the house Dr. Craven and the nurses seen healthy signs an symptoms of disease and preceded to give Colin useless therapy and Colin wanted to show his father his cure first so he let them do their silly cures.
Next time in the garden they used a strange Indian chanting ceremony to make Colin strong. This went on for some time.
"The Magic is in me!" he kept saying. "The Magic is making me strong! I can feel it! I can feel it!"
"What will Dr. Craven say?" broke out Mary.
"He won't say anything," Colin answered, "because he will not be told. This is to be the biggest secret of all. No one is to know anything about it until I have grown so strong that I can walk and run like any other boy. I shall come here every day in my chair and I shall be taken back in it.
"Your appetite. Is improving very much, Master Colin," the nurse had said one day. "You used to eat nothing, and so many things disagreed with you."
"Nothing disagrees with me now" replied Colin.
Colin put on his favorite air of dignified indifference to opinion.
Dr. Craven shook his head. He was holding Colin's wrist and he pushed up his sleeve and felt his arm. "You are not feverish," he said thoughtfully, "and such flesh as you have gained is healthy. If you can keep this up, my boy, we need not talk of dying. Your father will be happy to hear of this remarkable improvement."
"I won't have him told!" Colin broke forth fiercely. "It will only disappoint him if I get worse again--and I may get worse this very night.

And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.
"I wish my father would come home," he said. "I want to tell him myself. I'm always thinking about it--but we couldn't go on like this much longer. I can't stand lying still and pretending, and besides I look too different. I wish it wasn't raining today."
Mistress Mary had her inspiration. Do you know how many rooms there are in this house?" There's about a hundred no one ever goes into.
Colin said "A hundred rooms no one goes into," he said. "It sounds almost like a secret garden.
"Ring the bell," said Colin.
When the nurse came in he gave his orders.
"I want my chair," he said. "Miss Mary and I are going to look at the part of the house which is not used.
Rainy days lost their terrors that morning. When the footman had wheeled the chair into the picture-gallery and left the two together in obedience to orders, Colin and Mary looked at each other delighted. As soon as Mary had made sure that John was really on his way back to his own quarters below stairs, Colin got out of his chair.
"I am going to run from one end of the gallery to the other, . .. .. .."he said,

They had a belief in the Magic was in the Garden as much as within them selves. The Magic works best when you work, yourself.

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

So long as Mistress Mary's mind was full of dislikes, sour opinions and determined not to be pleased by or interested in anything, she was a yellow-faced, sickly, bored and wretched child.

So long as Colin shut himself up in his room and thought of his fears, weakness and detested people reflected on early death, he was a hypochondriac.
With sunshine and the spring and also did not know that he could get well and could stand upon his feet if he tried to do it.
When beautiful thoughts began to push out the old ones, his life began.

While the secret garden was coming alive and two children as well.

A great distance away was a man who for ten years had been heart-broken and his mind filled with dark thoughts. Archibald Craven had a strange feeling. "What is it?" he whispered "I almost feel as if--I were alive!" QWas it a dream?. Bur he was awake.
"Archie! Archie! Archie!" it said, and then again, sweeter and clearer than before, "Archie! Archie!"
It was such a real voice and it seemed so natural that he should hear it.
"Lilias! Lilias!" he answered. "Lilias! where are you?"
"In the garden," it came back like a sound from a golden flute. "In the garden!"
"In the garden!" he said, wondering at himself. "In the garden! But the door is locked and the key is buried deep."
He glanced at the letters,

"Dear Sir:

I am Susan Sowerby that made bold to speak to you
once on the moor.  It was about Miss Mary I spoke. 
I will make bold to speak again.  Please, sir, I would
come home if I was you.  I think you would be glad to come
and--if you will excuse me, sir--I think your lady would
ask you to come if she was here.

                      Your obedient servant,
                      Susan Sowerby."