t go back and get your sleep out," she said. "He'll drop off
after a while--if he's not too upset. Then I'll lie down myself in the
next room."

"Would you like me to sing you that song I learned from my Ayah?" Mary
whispered to Colin.

His hand pulled hers gently and he turned his tired eyes on her
appealingly.

"Oh, yes!" he answered. "It's such a soft song. I shall go to sleep
in a minute."

"I will put him to sleep," Mary said to the yawning nurse. "You can go
if you like."

"Well," said the nurse, with an attempt at reluctance. "If he doesn't
go to sleep in half an hour you must call me."

"Very well," answered Mary.

The nurse was out of the room in a minute and as soon as she was gone
Colin pulled Mary's hand again.

"I almost told," he said; "but I stopped myself in time. I won't talk
and I'll go to sleep, but you said you had a whole lot of nice things
to tell me. Have you--do you think you have found out anything at all
about the way into the secret garden?"

Mary looked at his poor little tired face and swollen eyes and her
heart relented.

"Ye-es," she answered, "I think I have. And if you will go to sleep I
will tell you tomorrow." His hand quite trembled.

"Oh, Mary!" he said. "Oh, Mary! If I could get into it I think I
should live to grow up! Do you suppose that instead of singing the Ayah
song--you could just tell me softly as you did that first day what you
imagine it looks like inside? I am sure it will make me go to sleep."

"Yes," answered Mary. "Shut your eyes."

He closed his eyes and lay quite still and she held his hand and began
to speak very slowly and in a very low voice.

"I think it has been left alone so long--that it has grown all into a
lovely tangle. I think the roses have climbed and climbed and climbed
until they hang from the branches and walls and creep over the
ground--almost like a strange gray mist. Some of them have died but
many--are alive and when the summer comes there will be curtains and
fountains of roses. I think the ground is full of daffodils and
snowdrops and lilies and iris working their way out of the dark. Now
the spring has begun--perhaps--perhaps--"

The soft drone of her voice was making him stiller and stiller and she
saw it and went on.

"Perhaps they are coming up through the grass--perhaps there are
clusters of purple crocuses and gold ones--even now. Perhaps the
leaves are beginning to break out and uncurl--and perhaps--t