The Secret Garden
"It Has Come!"
Of course Dr. Craven had been sent for the morning after Colin had had his tantrum. He
was always sent for at once when such a thing occurred and he always found, when he
arrived, a white shaken boy lying on his bed, sulky and still so hysterical that he was
ready to break into fresh sobbing at the least word. In fact, Dr. Craven dreaded and
detested the difficulties of these visits. On this occasion he was away from Misselthwaite
Manor until afternoon.
"How is he?" he asked Mrs. Medlock rather irritably when he arrived. "He will break a
blood-vessel in one of those fits some day. The boy is half insane with hysteria and self-
"Well, sir," answered Mrs. Medlock, "you'll scarcely believe your eyes when you see
him. That plain sour-faced child that's almost as bad as himself has just bewitched him.
How she's done it there's no telling. The Lord knows she's nothing to look at and you
scarcely ever hear her speak, but she did what none of us dare do. She just flew at him
like a little cat last night, and stamped her feet and ordered him to stop screaming, and
somehow she startled him so that he actually did stop, and this afternoon--well just come
up and see, sir. It's past crediting."
The scene which Dr. Craven beheld when he entered his patient's room was indeed rather
astonishing to him. As Mrs. Medlock opened the door he heard laughing and chattering.
Colin was on his sofa in his dressing-gown and he was sitting up quite straight looking at
a picture in one of the garden books and talking to the plain child who at that moment
could scarcely be called plain at all because her face was so glowing with enjoyment.
"Those long spires of blue ones--we'll have a lot of those," Colin was announcing.
"They're called Del-phin-iums."
"Dickon says they're larkspurs made big and grand," cried Mistress Mary. "There are
clumps there already."
Then they saw Dr. Craven and stopped. Mary became quite still and Colin looked fretful.
"I am sorry to hear you were ill last night, my boy," Dr. Craven said a trifle nervously. He
was rather a nervous man.
"I'm better now--much better," Colin answered, rather like a Rajah. "I'm going out in my
chair in a day or two if it is fine. I want some fresh air."
Dr. Craven sat down by him and felt his pulse and looked at him curiously.
"It must be a very fine day," he said, "and you must be very careful not to tire yourself."
"Fresh air won't tire me," said the young Rajah.