Mistress Mary Quite Contrary

As She Came Closer To Him She Noticed That There Was A Clean Fresh Scent Of Heather And Grass And Leaves About Him, Almost As If He Were Made Of Them. She Liked It Very Much And When She Looked Into His Funny Face With The Red Cheeks And Round Blue Eyes She Forgot That She Had Felt Shy.

Nothing In The World Is Quite As Adorably Lovely As A Robin When He Shows Off And They Are Nearly Always Doing It.

The Difficulty Will Be To Keep Her From Learning Too Fast And Too Much. She Is Always Sitting With Her Little Nose Burrowing Into Books. She Doesn't Read Them, Miss Minchin; She Gobbles Them Up As If She Were A Little Wolf Instead Of A Little Girl. She Is Always Starving For New Books To Gobble, And She Wants Grown-up Books--great, Big, Fat Ones--french And German As Well As English--history And Biography And Poets, And All Sorts Of Things. Drag Her Away From Her Books When She Reads Too Much.

And The Secret Garden Bloomed And Bloomed And Every Morning Revealed New Miracles.

Somehow, Something Always Happens Just Before Things Get To The Very Worst. It Is As If Magic Did It. If I Could Only Just Remember That Always. The Worse Thing Never Quite Comes.