The Secret Garden - Chapter 2 Miss Mary is very stubborn

　 　Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　Mary used to like to look at her mom from a distance and thought she was beautiful. However, after her death, Mary could not be expected to love her and miss her, because Mary knew too little about her. She didn't miss her at all, in fact, she was a child who was focused on herself, and all her thoughts were about herself, as always. There was no doubt that if she were older and left alone in this world, she would be anxious, but she was still very young, always taken care of, and she expected everything to be business as usual. All she wanted to know was whether she was going to a good house or not. The good people would follow her like a wet nurse and other Indian servants.

　　At the beginning she was sent to the house of an English priest, and she knew she would not stay there. She didn't want to stay. The English pastor was poor, with five children, almost the same age. They were dressed in shabby clothes, always arguing, snatching toys from each other. Mary hated their scruffy little house. She had a bad temper, was difficult to get along with, and after a day or two no one wanted to play with her. The next day, they gave her a nickname and made her angry.

　　It was Bazil who first thought of it. Basil was a little boy with disrespectful blue eyes and an upturned nose, and Mary hated him. She played under the tree herself, just like on the day of the cholera outbreak. Basil came over and stood by to watch her build a small mound and build a path in the garden. At this moment he felt interested, and suddenly made a suggestion.

　　"Why don't you build a bunch of rocks there as a rockery?" He said, "There in the middle," he leaned over her head and pointed.

　　"Get out!" Mary shouted, "I don't want boys. Get out!"

　　Basil looked angry for a moment, then began to tease people. He always liked to tease his sisters. He danced in circles around Mary, grimacing, singing and laughing.

　　Miss Mary, very stubborn,

　　How does your garden look?

　　Silver wind chimes, cockle shells,

　　Calendula, lined up in rows.

　　He sang until the other children heard it, and laughed along with it. The more Mary felt unhappy, the more vigorously they sang, "Miss Mary, very stubborn." Since then, as long as she was with them, they called her "Miss Mary very stubborn" to each other, sometimes calling her that.

　　"You're going to be sent home," Basil told her, "this weekend." We are very happy. ”

　　"I'm happy too," Mary replied, "where is home?"

　　"She doesn't know where home is!" Basil said, with the contemptuous look of a seven-year-old. "In England, of course. My grandmother lived there, and my sister Mabel, who was sent to her last year. You're not going to your grandma. You don't have grandma. You're going to go to your uncle's place. His name was Archibald Cranvin. ”

　　"I don't know him at all." Mary pushed back.

　　"I know you don't know," Replied Basil, "you don't know anything. Girls are always like this. I heard Mom and Dad talk about him. He lived in a big, desolate old house in the countryside, and no one approached him. He has a bad temper, so he doesn't allow others to come near him, but even if he does, people don't want to come. He was hunchbacked and scary. ”

　　"I don't believe you." Mary said she turned around, her fingers plugging her ears because she didn't want to listen anymore.

　　But then she thought a lot about it. That night Mrs. Crawford told her that in a few days she would take a boat to England, to the Miserswaite Estate where his uncle Archibald Cranvin lived, and that she looked hard-hearted and uninterested, and that the couple did not know what to do with her. They tried to treat her gently, but Mrs. Crawford wanted to kiss her, and she just turned her face away; Mr. Crawford gently tapped her shoulder, and she was just tensed up all over.

　　"What a mediocre child," said Mrs. Crawford, "and her mother is such a beautiful person." Her demeanor was also beautiful, but Mary's demeanor was the most boring of any child I had ever seen. The children called her 'Miss Mary is very stubborn', and although they were a little naughty, they really couldn't help but understand. ”

　　If her mother had brought her handsome face and mannerisms to the nursery a little more, Mary might have learned something. It's a pity that now that poor beauty is gone, know that many people never knew she had a child. ”

　　"I'm sure she didn't even look at her," sighed Mrs. Crawford, "and when her wet nurse died, no one thought of this little thing." Think about it, the servants have all run away, leaving her alone in that deserted house. Colonel McGrew said he was almost out of his mind, and when he opened the door, he found her standing alone in the middle of the room. ”

　　Under the care of an officer's wife, Mary sailed a long way to England. The officer's wife took her children with her to keep them at a boarding school. Her heart was almost all in her own little children, so in London she gladly handed Mary over to the woman that Archibald Cranvin had sent to pick her up. The woman was the housekeeper of The Miserswaite Manor, named Mrs. Mordrock. She was a stout woman with a very red face and dark and sharp eyes. She wore a dark purple dress, a black silk cloak, dark trim, and a black female hat with some purple flowers on it. As her head moved, the flowers stretched out and trembled. Mary didn't like her at all, but there were few people she liked, so it wasn't surprising, and Mrs. Mordlock obviously didn't take her to heart.　　"Oh my God! She's such a mediocre gadget!"

　　She said, "We heard that her mother was a beauty. She didn't pass on beauty to future generations, did she?"

　　"Maybe when she's older, she'll look good."

　　The officer's wife said kindly, "If only her face were not so gray and yellow, and her expression would have been better... Her face shape is actually good. Small children will change a lot. ”

　　"Then she'll have to change a lot," replied Mrs. Mordrock, "and There's nothing Misseswaite can improve her children—if you ask me!"

　　They thought Mary couldn't hear because Mary was some distance away from them. When she arrived at the private inn, she stood by the window, watching the passing buses, taxis and pedestrians, but she heard it clearly and began to wonder about her uncle and where he lived. What kind of place is that, and what will it be like? What is a hunchback? She had never seen it before. Probably india doesn't have one.

　　Ever since she had no wet nurse and began to live in other people's homes, she gradually felt lonely and had all kinds of strange thoughts that she hadn't had before. She began to wonder why she never seemed to belong to anyone, even when both parents were alive. The other children seemed to belong to their parents, but she never seemed to be a little girl of any kind. She had servants, food, and clothes, but no one ever noticed her. She didn't know it was because she had a bad temper, but at the time, of course, she didn't realize that she had a bad temper. She often thinks that others have bad tempers, but she doesn't know that she has a bad temper.

　　She felt that Mrs. Mordrock was the most awkward person she had ever seen, and her darkly colored face looked vulgar, and her delicate hat looked vulgar. The next day they set out on their journey to Yorkshire, and she walked across the train station to the train carriage, her head held high, trying to stay as far away from Mrs. Mordlock, for she didn't want others to think she belonged. She felt angry at the thought that others might think she was Mrs. Morlock's little daughter.

　　But Mrs. Moodlock paid no attention to Mary or her thoughts. She was the kind of woman who "would never tolerate the fooling of young people." At least, if someone asked, she would say so. She had not wanted to go to London, and her sister Maria's daughter was getting married, but the steward of the Miserswaite Estate was well paid and comfortable, and the only way to keep it was to immediately carry out the request of Mr. Archibald Cranvin. She didn't even dare to ask a question.

　　"Captain Lennox and his wife have died of cholera," said Mr. Cranvin, shortly and coldly, "and Captain Lennox is my wife's younger brother, and I am the guardian of their daughter. The child is going to take it. You have to go to London yourself and bring her back. ”

　　So she packed her little suitcase and took this trip.

　　Mary sat in the corner of the train carriage, looking bland and anxious. With nothing to see or read, she crossed a pair of thin hands with black gloves on her thighs. Her black skirt made her look even more yellow, and her thinning hair was scattered listlessly under the black ruffled silk hat

"Yes, she is dead," replied Mrs. Mordrock, "and it makes him even more eccentric than ever." He cared no one. I don't see anyone either. Most of the time he went out, and while he was in Misersweet he locked himself up in the west wing and saw no one but Picher. Pitchell was an old man, but he had taken care of him since childhood and knew his temper. ”

　　It sounded like a story in a book, and it made Mary feel unhappy. A house with hundreds of rooms, almost all closed, and locked doors—a house on the side of The Murr—sounded gloomy. A hunchback man, lock himself up too! She stared out the window, her lips tightened together. The place looked as if heavy rain was perfectly normal, with countless gray lines splashing down the window panes. If the beautiful wife were still alive, perhaps she would have made everything as angry as her mother, and she would have run out and run in, attended banquets, and dressed in a robe "full of lace" like her mother. But she wasn't there anymore.

　　"You don't have to expect to see him, for nine times out of ten you won't see him," said Mrs. Mordrock, "and you must never expect anyone to come and talk to you." You have to play by yourself and take care of yourself. Will tell you which rooms can and can't. There are lots of gardens. But when you're in the house, you're not allowed to wander around and touch things from side to place. Mr. Cranvin would not tolerate this. ”

　　"I don't want to touch the east and the west." The obedient little Mary said abruptly, as suddenly as she had for Mr. Crane, and she immediately felt that he was annoying, and that everything that happened was his deserving.

　　Then she turned her face to the train window glass where the rain was flowing and stared at the gray rain. The torrential rain seemed endless forever. She looked at it fixedly for a long time, and the gray was getting heavier and heavier before her eyes, and she fell asleep.