Instead of lying and staring at the wall and wishing he had not awakened, his mind was full of the plans he and Mary had made yesterday, of pictures of the garden and of Dickon and his wild creatures.

It was so nice to have things to think about.

And he had not been awake more than ten minutes when he heard feet running along the corridor and Mary was at the door.

The next minute she was in the room and had run across to his bed, bringing with her a waft of fresh air full of the scent of the morning.
"You've been out! You've been out! There's that nice smell of leaves!" he cried.
She had been running and her hair was loose and blown and she was bright with the air and pink-cheeked, though he could not see it.
"It's so beautiful!" she said, a little breathless with her speed.

"You never saw anything so beautiful! It has _come_! I thought it had come that other morning, but it was only coming.