“Well, it was rather funny to say it,” she admitted frankly, “because his nose does turn up and he has a big mouth and his clothes have patches all over them and he talks broad Yorkshire, but—­but if an angel did come to Yorkshire and live on the moor—­if there was a Yorkshire angel—­I believe he’d understand the green things and know how to make them grow and he would know how to talk to the wild creatures as Dickon does and they’d know he was friends for sure.”

“I shouldn’t mind Dickon looking at me,” said Colin; “I want to see him.”

“I’m glad you said that,” answered Mary, “because—­because—­”

Quite suddenly it came into her mind that this was the minute to tell him.  Colin knew something new was coming.

“Because what?” he cried eagerly.

Mary was so anxious that she got up from her stool and came to him and caught hold of both his hands.

“Can I trust you?  I trusted Dickon because birds trusted him.  Can I trust you—­for sure—­for sure?” she implored.

Her face was so solemn that he almost whispered his answer.

“Yes—­yes!”

“Well, Dickon will come to see you to-morrow morning, and he’ll bring his creatures with him.”

“Oh!  Oh!” Colin cried out in delight.

“But that’s not all,” Mary went on, almost pale with solemn excitement.  “The rest is better.  There is a door into the garden.  I found it.  It is under the ivy on the wall.”

If he had been a strong healthy boy Colin would probably have shouted “Hooray!  Hooray!  Hooray!” but he was weak and rather hysterical; his eyes grew bigger and bigger and he gasped for breath.

“Oh!  Mary!” he cried out with a half sob.  “Shall I see it?  Shall I get into it?  Shall I live to get into it?” and he clutched her hands and dragged her toward him.

“Of course you’ll see it!” snapped Mary indignantly.  “Of course you’ll live to get into it!  Don’t be silly!”

And she was so un-hysterical and natural and childish that she brought him to his senses and he began to laugh at himself and a few minutes afterward she was sitting on her stool again telling him not what she imagined the secret garden to be like but what it really was, and Colin’s aches and tiredness were forgotten and he was listening enraptured.

“It is just what you thought it would be,” he said at last.  “It sounds just as if you had really seen it.  You know I said that when you told me first.”

Mary hesitated about two minutes and then boldly spoke the truth.

“I had seen it—­and I had been in,” she said.  “I found the key and got in weeks ago.  But I daren’t tell you—­I daren’t because I was so afraid I couldn’t trust you—­for sure!”

CHAPTER XIX

“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.