The Secret Garden Page #4

But you, you look like her.

Why do you keep a curtain over her?

She smiles too much.

Smiles too much?

How can anybody smile too much?

Sometimes I hate her.

- She died when I was born.

- I thought she died in her garden.

Garden?

What garden?

Oh, just a garden.

There are so many of them here.

- Are there?

- Of course.

Don't you go outside?

Never.

What's wrong with you?

I'm going to die.

From what?

Everything.

I've spent my whole life in this bed.

You don't know how to walk?

You are real?

My dreams are so real sometimes.

Shall I pinch you to prove it?

See?

How did you know to pull the weeds?

It looked like it was strangling.

I don't even know what it is.

A lily. It's an Empress-of-India lily.

Empress of India?

These bulbs are lilies, too.

We'll plant them all around your lily.

She'll have her own ladies in waiting.

It's just like the rhyme:

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary

"How does your garden grow?

"With silver bells and cockleshells

"And pretty maids all in a row."

On the boat coming here,

they used to sing that song at me.

I wasn't as contrary as they were.

I met my cousin last night.

You've seen Colin?

Did you know about him?

Everybody knows about him.

But hardly anybody's seen him.

He said his mother died when he was born.

She fell off the swing.

He was born too soon.

He's not at all like you.

His cheeks are whiter than ice and marble.

Whiter than these little hairs.

Those are the roots.

Set it in there.

Let it grow this way, Miss Mary.

How tiresome to be shut indoors.

It's too stuffy!

I'll faint if I don't get

some light and fresh air.

At least we can open the windows.

No, get away from there!

Don't touch them.

They're nailed shut.

My lungs can't take the spores.

Spores?

The wind carries them. When you

breathe the air, you swallow them.

They get stuck in your lungs.

Before I got out into the wind,

even my hair was scrawny.

Your hair?

- Hair is dead.

- Lf hair is dead...

...then how come it keeps growing

even after you die?

Well, maybe not your hair!

By then you might be bald.

Don't be stupid.

I'll be dead before I'm old enough

to be bald.

I'll get a lump on my back like my father.

Then I'll die.

I hate how you talk about dying.

Everyone thinks I'll die.

If everyone thought that about me,

I wouldn't do it.

Here.

Put this on.

Everyone has to wear one.

Medlock's orders.

- But she's not here to see me.

- Put it on.

It makes my face itch.

I can't stand it!

I didn't give you any germs last night!

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