work away underground for a lifetime an' spread
out an' have little 'uns. There's a place in th'
park woods here where there's snowdrops by thousands.
They're the prettiest sight in Yorkshire
when th' spring comes. No one knows when they
was first planted."

"I wish the spring was here now," said Mary.
"I want to see all the things that grow in England."

She had finished her dinner and gone to her
favorite seat on the hearth-rug.

"I wish -- I wish I had a little spade," she
said.

"Whatever does tha' want a spade for?"
asked Martha, laughing. "Art tha' goin' to take
to diggin'? I must tell mother that, too."

Mary looked at the fire and pondered a little.
She must be careful if she meant to keep her secret
kingdom. She wasn't doing any harm, but if Mr.
Craven found out about the open door he would be
fearfully angry and get a new key and lock it up
forevermore. She really could not bear that.

"This is such a big lonely place," she said
slowly, as if she were turning matters over in her
mind. "The house is lonely, and the park is
lonely, and the gardens are lonely. So many
places seem shut up. I never did many things in
India, but there were more people to look at --
natives and soldiers marching by -- and sometimes

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