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Mary had never possessed an animal pet of her own and had always thought she should like one.
Poor little thin, sallow, ugly Mary—she actually looked almost pretty for a moment.
Four good things had happened to her, in fact, since she came to Misselthwaite Manor. She had felt as if she had understood a robin and that he had understood her; she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm; she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life; and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one.
She worked and dug and pulled up weeds steadily, only becoming more pleased with her work every hour instead of tiring of it.
"It's a secret garden, and I'm the only one in the world who wants it to be alive."
