nd he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show
off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when
he shows off--and they are nearly always doing it.

Mary Lennox had heard a great deal about Magic in her Ayah's stories,
and she always said that what happened almost at that moment was Magic.

One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a
stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of
the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing
sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to
the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy
trails, and more suddenly still she jumped toward it and caught it in
her hand. This she did because she had seen something under it--a round
knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the
knob of a door.

She put her hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them
aside. Thick as the ivy hung, it nearly all was a loose and swinging
curtain, though some had crept over wood and iron. Mary's heart began to
thump and her hands to shake a little in her delight and excitement. The
robin kept singing and twittering away and tilting his head on one side,
as if he were as excited as she was. What was this under her hands which
was square and made of iron and which her fingers found a hole in?

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 slowly--slowly.

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