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: I've watched thee go about the garden. There's no way in. Mary Lennox
: In where? Dickon
: The secret garden. He locked the gate long years ago. Mary Lennox
: Who locked the gate? Dickon
: The master. Lord Craven, thy uncle. Mary Lennox
: What do you know about it? Dickon
: I know what's said. He locked the gate and buried the key, and nary's a soul been in there since. Mary Lennox
: I don't believe you. Do you know why I don't believe you? Because there isn't any gate. I've looked. Dickon
: Eh, so've I.
: What were you doing watching me? Dickon
: I came to play with thee. My mother thought thou might be lonely. Mary Lennox
: Well, I'm not, and I don't play with any servant's brother. I never heard of anything so ridiculous. Thou can just go home.
] Mary Lennox
: I mean, you can just go home.
: What's that? Dickon
: A fox cub. His name's Captain. Mary Lennox
: Dickon, are you still angry with me? Dickon
: When was I ever angry with thee? Mary Lennox
: Oh, good. Dickon, I've got so many secrets I'm just dying. Dickon
: Thou seems most healthy. Mary Lennox
: Dickon, I need you. All you have to do is listen. What good is a secret if there's no one to tell it to?
: Thou's not such a bad-looking lass, at that.
: Why, thou's blushing like a beet.
: And Ben said he loved her, and I said, what of that? Is loving someone a reason to kill? And Ben said, how old are thee? Colin Craven
: My father must've loved my mother very much. Mary Lennox
: I suppose we're not old enough. There must be an awful lot we don't know. I don't want to grow up.
: The animals tell me all their secrets. Mary
: [pointing to the Robin
] He wouldn't tell you my secret, would he? Dickon
: About what, Miss Mary? Mary
: A garden. I've stolen a garden. But it may already be dead, I don't know. Dickon
: I'll know. Mary
: Promise you won't tell anyone? Dickon
: Promise. Mary
: No one? Dickon
: Not a soul.
: [pointing to a swing
] Look, there's a picture of my mother and my aunt sitting here. Dickon
: They say that's how she died. Mary
: My aunt? How? Dickon
: Falling off it.
: Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? Dickon
: With silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row. Mary
: On the boat coming here, the other children used to sing that at me, but I wasn't as contrary as they were.
: It's a secret garden. Dickon
: Secrets are safe with me.