The Secret Garden (Google eBook)
Since its publication in 1911, The Secret Garden, a touchstone of children’s literature, has been adapted for plays and movies over a dozen times. Charming generations of readers, the story centers around the healing power of friendship, and the magic in the everyday. Burnett begins with a spoiled and unsympathetic heroine named Mary Lennox. When Mary is orphaned, she is shipped from her home in colonial India to a drab country house in Yorkshire. As she learns to tend the garden on the estate, Mary forms her first true friendships; when they bring a secret garden back to life, Mary and her friends are also transformed.
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Review: Three Complete Books: The Secret Garden/a Little Princess/Little Lord FauntleroyUser Review - Kari Garrett - Goodreads
We read all three of these stories as a family. We loved all of them! Read full review
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Review: Three Complete Books: The Secret Garden/a Little Princess/Little Lord FauntleroyUser Review - Susanne Muehlhan-regalado - Goodreads
the little princess is my least favorite. loved the little lord fauntleroy Read full review
alive answered Mary asked Mary Ayah began Ben Weatherstaff birds blue breath child clotted cream corridor cottage Craven cried crying Dickon door earth eyes face father feel felt flowers fresh air frightened funny face gorse grass gray green grow hand hated head heard India knew laughed listened live looked Magic Martha Mary thought Master Colin Medlock Mem Sahib Mester minutes Missel Misselthwaite Mistress Mary moor moorland morning mother nest never nice nurse perhaps push queer Rajah robin roses round secret garden seemed servants singin skip sleep slowly smile snowdrops Soot sort sound stared stood stopped strange suddenly sure Susan Sowerby talk tell tha'd Tha'rt tha's thee there's things thrush tired told tree turned walk wall watched Weatherstaff whispered wonder Yorkshire young young Rajah
Page 136 - Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And pretty maids all in a row.
Page 1 - When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another.
Page 211 - I'll sit and clench my teeth and never tell you one thing. I won't even look at you. I'll stare at the floor!" They were a nice agreeable pair as they glared at each other. If they had been two little street boys they would have sprung at each other and had a rough-and-tumble fight. As it was, they did the next thing to it. "You are a selfish thing!
Page 353 - ... and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago. One of the new things people began to find out in the last century was that thoughts— just mere thoughts— are as powerful as electric batteries— as good for one as sunlight is, or as bad for one as poison. To let a sad thought or a bad one get into your mind is as dangerous as letting a scarlet fever germ get into your body.
Page 275 - I'm going to see the summer. I'm going to see everything grow here. I'm going to grow here myself." "That tha' will," said Dickon. "Us'll have thee walkin' about here an' diggin' same as other folk afore long.
Page 27 - That's the wind blowing through the bushes," Mrs. Medlock said. "It's a wild, dreary enough place to my mind, though there's plenty that likes it— particularly when the heather's in bloom." On and on they drove through the darkness, and though the rain stopped, the wind rushed by and whistled and made strange sounds. The road went up and down, and several times the carriage passed over a little bridge beneath which water rushed very fast with a great deal of noise. Mary felt as if the drive would...
Page 77 - It's my day out today an' I'm goin' home. Eh! I am glad. Mrs. Medlock thinks a lot o' mother. Perhaps she could talk to her." "I like your mother," said Mary. "I should think tha' did," agreed Martha, polishing away. "I've never seen her," said Mary. "No, tha' hasn't," replied Martha. She sat up on her heels again and rubbed the end of her nose with the back of her hand as if puzzled for a moment, but she ended quite positively. "Well, she's that sensible^ an' hard workin' an' goodnatured an' clean...
Page 34 - ... bein' washed an' dressed an' took out to walk as if they was puppies!" "It is different in India," said Mistress Mary disdainfully. She could scarcely stand this. But Martha was not at all crushed. "Eh! I can see it's different," she answered almost sympathetically. "I dare say it's because there's such a lot o' blacks there instead o' respectable white people. When I heard you was comin' from India I thought you was a black too.
Page 159 - No. I stay in this room because I don't want to be moved out of it. It tires me too much." "Does your father come and see you?" Mary ventured. " Sometimes. Generally when I am asleep. He doesn't want to see me." "Why?" Mary could not help asking again. A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face. "My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretched to look at me. He thinks I don't know, but I've heard people talking. He almost hates me.
Page 127 - Come with me and I'll show you," she said. She led him round the laurel path and to the walk where the ivy grew so thickly. Dickon followed her with a queer, almost pitying, look on his face. He felt as if he were being led to look at some strange bird's nest and must move softly. When she stepped to the wall and lifted the hanging ivy he started. There was a door and Mary pushed it slowly open and they passed in together, and then Mary stood and waved her hand round defiantly. "It's this," she said....