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Updated: June 23, 2025
And they sang it again, and Mary and Colin lifted their voices as musically as they could and Dickon's swelled quite loud and beautiful and at the second line Ben Weatherstaff raspingly cleared his throat and at the third line he joined in with such vigor that it seemed almost savage and when the "Amen" came to an end Mary observed that the very same thing had happened to him which had happened when he found out that Colin was not a cripple his chin was twitching and he was staring and winking and his leathery old cheeks were wet.
"Eh!" he said, "that sounds as if tha'd got wits enow. Tha'rt a Yorkshire lad for sure. An' tha'rt diggin', too. How'd tha' like to plant a bit o' somethin'? I can get thee a rose in a pot." "Go and get it!" said Colin, digging excitedly. "Quick! Quick!" It was done quickly enough indeed. Ben Weatherstaff went his way forgetting rheumatics.
"I couldn't make out how it had been done." "She was so fond of it she was!" said Ben Weatherstaff slowly. "An' she was such a pretty young thing. She says to me once, 'Ben, says she laughin', 'if ever I'm ill or if I go away you must take care of my roses. When she did go away th' orders was no one was ever to come nigh. But I come," with grumpy obstinacy.
Every few yards it stopped to rest. Colin leaned on Dickon's arm and privately Ben Weatherstaff kept a sharp lookout, but now and then Colin took his hand from its support and walked a few steps alone. His head was held up all the time and he looked very grand. "The Magic is in me!" he kept saying. "The Magic is making me strong! I can feel it! I can feel it!"
Ben Weatherstaff had seen it done and had himself scraped out mortar from between the bricks of the wall and made pockets of earth for lovely clinging things to grow on. Iris and white lilies rose out of the grass in sheaves, and the green alcoves filled themselves with amazing armies of the blue and white flower lances of tall delphiniums or columbines or campanulas.
"What will they be?" asked Mary. "Crocuses an' snowdrops an' daffydowndillys. Has tha' never seen them?" "No. Everything is hot, and wet, and green after the rains in India," said Mary. "And I think things grow up in a night." "These won't grow up in a night," said Weatherstaff. "Tha'll have to wait for 'em.
"He's as straight as I am!" cried Dickon. "He's as straight as any lad i' Yorkshire!" What Ben Weatherstaff did Mary thought queer beyond measure. He choked and gulped and suddenly tears ran down his weather-wrinkled cheeks as he struck his old hands together. "Eh!" he burst forth, "th' lies folk tells! Tha'rt as thin as a lath an' as white as a wraith, but there's not a knob on thee.
"This is where I used to walk up and down and wonder and wonder." "Is it?" cried Colin, and his eyes began to search the ivy with eager curiousness. "But I can see nothing," he whispered. "There is no door." "That's what I thought," said Mary. Then there was a lovely breathless silence and the chair wheeled on. "That is the garden where Ben Weatherstaff works," said Mary. "Is it?" said Colin.
"Th' world's full o' jackasses brayin' an' they never bray nowt but lies. What did tha' shut thysel' up for?" "Everyone thought I was going to die," said Colin shortly. "I'm not!" And he said it with such decision Ben Weatherstaff looked him over, up and down, down and up. "Tha' die!" he said with dry exultation. "Nowt o' th' sort! Tha's got too much pluck in thee.
His thin hand was weak enough but presently as they watched him Mary with quite breathless interest he drove the end of the trowel into the soil and turned some over. "You can do it! You can do it!" said Mary to herself. "I tell you, you can!" Dickon's round eyes were full of eager curiousness but he said not a word. Ben Weatherstaff looked on with interested face. Colin persevered.
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