CHAPTER IX 70
" They ' re things as helps themselves," said Martha. " That ' s why poor folk can afford to have ' em. If you don ' t trouble ' em, most of ' em ' ll work away underground for a lifetime an ' spread out an ' have little ' uns. There ' s a place in th ' park woods here where there ' s snowdrops by thousands. They ' re the prettiest sight in Yorkshire when th ' spring comes. No one knows when they was first planted."
" I wish the spring was here now," said Mary. " I want to see all the things that grow in England."
She had finished her dinner and gone to her favorite seat on the hearth-rug. " I wish--I wish I had a little spade," she said.
" Whatever does tha ' want a spade for?" asked Martha, laughing. " Art tha ' goin ' to take to diggin '? I must tell mother that, too."
Mary looked at the fire and pondered a little. She must be careful if she meant to keep her secret kingdom. She wasn ' t doing any harm, but if Mr. Craven found out about the open door he would be fearfully angry and get a new key and lock it up forevermore. She really could not bear that.
" This is such a big lonely place," she said slowly, as if she were turning matters over in her mind. " The house is lonely, and the park is lonely, and the gardens are lonely. So many places seem shut up. I never did many things in India, but there were more people to look at--natives and soldiers marching by--and sometimes bands playing, and my Ayah told me stories. There is no one to talk to here except you and Ben Weatherstaff. And you have to do your work and Ben Weatherstaff won ' t speak to me often. I thought if I had a little spade I could dig somewhere as he does, and I might make a little garden if he would give me some seeds."
Martha ' s face quite lighted up.
" There now!" she exclaimed, " if that wasn ' t one of th ' things mother said. She says, ' There ' s such a lot o ' room in that big place, why don ' t they give