frames, but in the second wall there was another green door and it was
not open. Perhaps it led into the garden which no one had seen for ten
years. As she was not at all a timid child and always did what she
wanted to do, Mary went to the green door and turned the handle. She
hoped the door would not open because she wanted to be sure she had
found the mysterious garden--but it did open quite easily and she walked
through it and found herself in an orchard. There were walls all round
it also and trees trained against them, and there were bare fruit-trees
growing in the winter-browned grass--but there was no green door to be
seen anywhere. Mary looked for it, and yet when she had entered the
upper end of the garden she had noticed that the wall did not seem to
end with the orchard but to extend beyond it as if it enclosed a place
at the other side. She could see the tops of trees above the wall, and
when she stood still she saw a bird with a bright red breast sitting on
the topmost branch of one of them, and suddenly he burst into his winter
song--almost as if he had caught sight of her and was calling to her.

She stopped and listened to him and somehow his cheerful, friendly
little whistle gave her a pleased feeling--even a disagreeable little
girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor and big
bare gardens had made this one feel as if there was no one left in the
world but herself. If she had been an affectionate child, who had been
used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though
she was "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" she was desolate, and the
bright-breasted little bird brought a look into her sour little face
which was almost a smile. She listened to him until he flew away. He was
not like an Indian bird and she liked him and wondered if she should
ever see him again. Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew
all about it.