The Secret Garden

My name is Mary Lennox.

I was born in India.

It was hot... and strange...

... and lonely in India.

I didn't like it.

Nobody but my servant...

... my ayah, looked after me.

My parents didn't want me.

My mother cared only to go to parties...

... and my father was busy

with his military duties.

I was never allowed to go to the parties.

I watched them

from my mother's bedroom window.

I was angry, but I never cried.

I didn't know how to cry.

- I left my fan. You didn't have to come.

- I wanted to.

My parents always thought

about themselves.

They never thought about me.

If only I could've known...

... that in a few moments

I would lose them forever.

Earthquake!

The families of the Indian earthquake

orphans should please go to Dock 2.

We're here, Mary! Can you believe it?

She's so sour. I heard that she never cried

when her parents died.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary..."

Numbers 38 and 39...

... George and Amy Brent.

Numbers 40 and 41...

...Timothy and Thomas Burke.

- Here we are!

- Here we are!

Oh, my boys, my boys.

Number 43, Mary Lennox.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary

"How does your garden grow?

"With silver bells

"And cockleshells

"And pretty maids all in a row."

Number 43...

... Mary Lennox.

Please, just step aside.

Number 44...

... Adam Snow.

Mary Lennox?

Is that Mary Lennox?

Number 43.

Yes, Mary Lennox.

I've come to claim her.

I'm Mrs. Medlock,

housekeeper of Misslethwaite Manor...

...for the Lord Archibald Craven...

...her uncle and guardian.

What a queer, unresponsive little thing.

And, my word, a plain piece of quince.

Her mother was a beauty.

She certainly didn't hand much of it down.

She might improve as she gets older.

Children change.

She'll have to change quite a bit.

There's not much to improve her

at Misslethwaite Manor.

Come along.

It's a pity for you that

you haven't any other place to go.

Your uncle won't trouble himself

about you.

That's for sure.

He never troubles himself about anyone.

As if having a crooked back...

...wasn't cross enough for a man to bear,

but she had to up and die on him.

Your aunt is dead.

Didn't your mother tell you?

Strange.

Not telling you that

her own twin sister was dead.

My mother didn't have the time

to tell me stories.

Oh, at last.

There's Misslethwaite.

You'll go straight to bed for a few hours.

You probably haven't gotten much rest.

There's your breakfast.

I'm still in my nightgown.

You can change after you eat.

There are new clothes in the wardrobe.

Who'll dress me?

You can't dress yourself?

Of course not. My ayah dressed me.

Nonsense.

As old as you are?

What do they do with children in India?

Carry you around in a basket?

How dare you talk to me

with such disrespect!

Nobody's going to carry you

around Misslethwaite Manor.

We've far too much work already.

So you'll have to look after yourself.

There are 100 rooms here.

This one and no other is yours.

Don't expect to see your uncle

because it's certain you won't.

You are not to touch anything,

or to go wandering and poking about.

The house seemed dead...

... like a spell had been cast upon it.

It looked just like my mother's room.

This must have been my aunt's.

The dressing tables were the same.

They even had twin ivory elephants.

Mother.

What are you doing? What did I tell you?

I heard someone crying.

Dogs.

No, someone! A person crying.

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