round it and that it was only one of several walled gardens which seemed
to open into one another. She saw another open green door, revealing
bushes and pathways between beds containing winter vegetables.
Fruit-trees were trained flat against the wall, and over some of the
beds there were glass frames. The place was bare and ugly enough, Mary
thought, as she stood and stared about her. It might be nicer in summer
when things were green, but there was nothing pretty about it now.

Presently an old man with a spade over his shoulder walked through the
door leading from the second garden. He looked startled when he saw
Mary, and then touched his cap. He had a surly old face, and did not
seem at all pleased to see her--but then she was displeased with his
garden and wore her "quite contrary" expression, and certainly did not
seem at all pleased to see him.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"One o' th' kitchen-gardens," he answered.

"What is that?" said Mary, pointing through the other green door.

"Another of 'em," shortly. "There's another on t'other side o' th' wall
an' there's th' orchard t'other side o' that."

"Can I go in them?" asked Mary.

"If tha' likes. But there's nowt to see."

Mary made no response. She went down the path and through the second
green door. There she found more walls and winter vegetables and glass