CHAPTER XI 91
th ' rabbits does. Mother says I ' ve sniffed up too much fresh air for twelve year ' to ever get to sniffin ' with cold. I ' m as tough as a white-thorn knobstick."
He was working all the time he was talking and Mary was following him and helping him with her fork or the trowel.
" There ' s a lot of work to do here!" he said once, looking about quite exultantly.
" Will you come again and help me to do it?" Mary begged. " I ' m sure I can help, too. I can dig and pull up weeds, and do whatever you tell me. Oh! do come, Dickon!"
" I ' ll come every day if tha ' wants me, rain or shine," he answered stoutly. " It ' s th ' best fun I ever had in my life--shut in here an ' wakenin ' up a garden."
" If you will come," said Mary, " if you will help me to make it alive I ' ll--I don ' t know what I ' ll do," she ended helplessly. What could you do for a boy like that?
" I ' ll tell thee what tha ' ll do," said Dickon, with his happy grin. " Tha ' ll get fat an ' tha ' ll get as hungry as a young fox an ' tha ' ll learn how to talk to th ' robin same as I do. Eh! we ' ll have a lot o ' fun."
He began to walk about, looking up in the trees and at the walls and bushes with a thoughtful expression.
" I wouldn ' t want to make it look like a gardener ' s garden, all clipped an ' spick an ' span, would you?" he said. " It ' s nicer like this with things runnin ' wild, an ' swingin ' an ' catchin ' hold of each other."
" Don ' t let us make it tidy," said Mary anxiously. " It wouldn ' t seem like a secret garden if it was tidy."