Mary flew across the grass to him.

“Oh, Dickon!  Dickon!” she cried out.  “How could you get here so early!  How could you!  The sun has only just got up!”

He got up himself, laughing and glowing, and tousled; his eyes like a bit of the sky.

“Eh!” he said.  “I was up long before him.  How could I have stayed abed!  Th’ world’s all fair begun again this mornin’, it has.  An’ it’s workin’ an’ hummin’ an’ scratchin’ an’ pipin’ an’ nest-buildin’ an’ breathin’ out scents, till you’ve got to be out on it ‘stead o’ lyin’ on your back.  When th’ sun did jump up, th’ moor went mad for joy, an’ I was in the midst of th’ heather, an’ I run like mad myself, shoutin’ an’ singin’.  An’ I come straight here.  I couldn’t have stayed away.  Why, th’ garden was lyin’ here waitin’!”

Mary put her hands on her chest, panting, as if she had been running herself.

“Oh, Dickon!  Dickon!” she said.  “I’m so happy I can scarcely breathe!”

Seeing him talking to a stranger, the little bushy-tailed animal rose from its place under the tree and came to him, and the rook, cawing once, flew down from its branch and settled quietly on his shoulder.

“This is th’ little fox cub,” he said, rubbing the little reddish animal’s head.  “It’s named Captain.  An’ this here’s Soot.  Soot he flew across th’ moor with me an’ Captain he run same as if th’ hounds had been after him.  They both felt same as I did.”

Neither of the creatures looked as if he were the least afraid of Mary.  When Dickon began to walk about, Soot stayed on his shoulder and Captain trotted quietly close to his side.

“See here!” said Dickon.  “See how these has pushed up, an’ these an’ these!  An’ Eh! look at these here!”

He threw himself upon his knees and Mary went down beside him.  They had come upon a whole clump of crocuses burst into purple and orange and gold.  Mary bent her face down and kissed and kissed them.

“You never kiss a person in that way,” she said when she lifted her head.  “Flowers are so different.”

He looked puzzled but smiled.

“Eh!” he said, “I’ve kissed mother many a time that way when I come in from th’ moor after a day’s roamin’ an’ she stood there at th’ door in th’ sun, lookin’ so glad an’ comfortable.”

They ran from one part of the garden to another and found so many wonders that they were obliged to remind themselves that they must whisper or speak low.  He showed her swelling leaf-buds on rose branches which had seemed dead.  He showed her ten thousand new green points pushing through the mould.  They put their eager young noses close to the earth and sniffed its warmed springtime breathing; they dug and pulled and laughed low with rapture until Mistress Mary’s hair was as tumbled as Dickon’s and her cheeks were almost as poppy red as his.

There was every joy on earth in the secret garden that morning, and in the midst of them came a delight more delightful than all, because it was more wonderful.  Swiftly something flew across the wall and darted through the trees to a close grown corner, a little flare of red-breasted bird with something hanging from its beak.  Dickon stood quite still and put his hand on Mary almost as if they had suddenly found themselves laughing in a church.