“I think he’s a very spoiled boy,” said Mary.

“He’s th’ worst young nowt as ever was!” said Martha.  “I won’t say as he hasn’t been ill a good bit.  He’s had coughs an’ colds that’s nearly killed him two or three times.  Once he had rheumatic fever an’ once he had typhoid.  Eh!  Mrs. Medlock did get a fright then.  He’d been out of his head an’ she was talkin’ to th’ nurse, thinkin’ he didn’t know nothin’, an’ she said, ‘He’ll die this time sure enough, an’ best thing for him an’ for everybody.’  An’ she looked at him an’ there he was with his big eyes open, starin’ at her as sensible as she was herself.  She didn’t know what’d happen but he just stared at her an’ says, ’You give me some water an’ stop talkin’.’”

“Do you think he will die?” asked Mary.

“Mother says there’s no reason why any child should live that gets no fresh air an’ doesn’t do nothin’ but lie on his back an’ read picture-books an’ take medicine.  He’s weak and hates th’ trouble o’ bein’ taken out o’ doors, an’ he gets cold so easy he says it makes him ill.”

Mary sat and looked at the fire.

“I wonder,” she said slowly, “if it would not do him good to go out into a garden and watch things growing.  It did me good.”

“One of th’ worst fits he ever had,” said Martha, “was one time they took him out where the roses is by the fountain.  He’d been readin’ in a paper about people gettin’ somethin’ he called ‘rose cold’ an’ he began to sneeze an’ said he’d got it an’ then a new gardener as didn’t know th’ rules passed by an’ looked at him curious.  He threw himself into a passion an’ he said he’d looked at him because he was going to be a hunchback.  He cried himself into a fever an’ was ill all night.”

“If he ever gets angry at me, I’ll never go and see him again,” said Mary.

“He’ll have thee if he wants thee,” said Martha.  “Tha’ may as well know that at th’ start.”

Very soon afterward a bell rang and she rolled up her knitting.

“I dare say th’ nurse wants me to stay with him a bit,” she said.  “I hope he’s in a good temper.”

She was out of the room about ten minutes and then she came back with a puzzled expression.

“Well, tha’ has bewitched him,” she said.  “He’s up on his sofa with his picture-books.  He’s told the nurse to stay away until six o’clock.  I’m to wait in the next room.  Th’ minute she was gone he called me to him an’ says, ’I want Mary Lennox to come and talk to me, and remember you’re not to tell any one.’  You’d better go as quick as you can.”

Mary was quite willing to go quickly.  She did not want to see Colin as much as she wanted to see Dickon, but she wanted to see him very much.

There was a bright fire on the hearth when she entered his room, and in the daylight she saw it was a very beautiful room indeed.  There were rich colors in the rugs and hangings and pictures and books on the walls which made it look glowing and comfortable even in spite of the gray sky and falling rain.  Colin looked rather like a picture himself.  He was wrapped in a velvet dressing-gown and sat against a big brocaded cushion.  He had a red spot on each cheek.