Mary sat in the carriage as it trundled towards Misselthwaite Manor without fidgeting one bit. Three years at a girls preparatory school had broken that habit, when every other move she made was met with a reprimand or, occasionally, a smack with a ruler. No, she sat quite still, just as she had on her first trip to Misselthwaite, and stared out the window into the darks, drizzly night. Her body may have been still, but her mind was racing. She hadn't been home in three whole years. How was that possible? Well, she thought, it was quite simple. The students were only allowed to return home once a year, around Christmastime, for one month, unless an emergency called for their immediate return home. The rest of the time, they were at school. The first winter, Mary had been rather ill. The second winter, the whole country had been shut down by snow for the first week of the girls' vacation and most had deemed it unwise to return the next week and by the third week it wasn't worth the trouble for Mary to return home. Last winter, Mary had realized she would be returning home in the Spring and had decided to travel back and forth between her friends' homes. It had started with one friend inviting her to come for Christmas and then another and eventually four separate girls had invited Mary to visit and so, she spent about a week with each girl. It had been quite delightful. Mary had liked school quite a bit and it had done well for her. She had made friends with students and teachers alike and had done well in nearly all her classes (except for singing--Mary apparently had very little singing ability). But she was ready to go home. She was seventeen now, and girls over seventeen weren't allowed to attend the school, but even more than that, she missed home. Uncle Archie and Collin had visited her at school the winter she was ill and during a holiday weekend last year, but she missed them all the same. She also missed Martha, whom she had kept in touch with through letters. But most of all, she could not wait to see Dickon and her garden. How had her garden changed without her there? Was it still as beautiful as when she had left? She wasn't afraid it had died or anything because Martha and Colin had assured her of its safety through their correspondence and she was sure that Dickon would never have abandoned it and surely nothing could die if Dickon cared for it. Had he changed? She hadn't seen or corresponded with Dickon for three years. Martha often spoke of him in her letters, but mostly things like "Dickon found a baby goat yesterday on the Moor" or "Dickon came by the Manor yesterday and we had tea". Never a word about if Dickon had changed at all. Surely he must've: taller, probably broader, perhaps his voice had changed, or perhaps he had still looked exactly the same: round red cheeks, only an inch taller than her, thinner than he should be, a slight smile adorning his face nearly all the time. Sometimes, when she had been at school, she had lay in bed at night thinking about Dickon and wondering what he was doing, or if he ever thought about her.
"Mary," a voice shook her out of her thoughts. "We're only a couple minutes away. Are you ready to be back home?" Mrs. Medlock looked at her oddly. Last time she had ridden this road with Mary had been three years ago and they had been going the other direction. On that ride, she had chatted amiably and the closer they had gotten, the more she had fidgeted. But now, the girl sat stock still staring out the window. Not in the hard little way she had on their first trip to Misselthwaite, but in a wondering, dreamy sort of way. Mrs. Medlock knew the girl was thinking about something or someone, but couldn't guess as to what.
Mary stirred herself from her thoughts and realized how quiet she had been. It was time to talk. She would think more later that night. "Oh. Yes, of course Mrs. Medlock. I've missed home for three years and I'm ready to be back." Some questions suddenly occurred to Mary and she addressed them to Mrs. Medlock. "Will I still be staying in the same rooms? And is Colin still in that same dark, dreary room? What's changed since I've been away?"
Mrs. Medlock blinked at Mary, startled. She hadn't expected to start a conversation, she was only telling Mary to ready herself. She shook herself mentally, but outwardly only blinked again. "Well, Miss Mary," she began, her tone businesslike, "you'll certainly be in the same rooms, unless you wish to move. Master Colin did change rooms last year. Said he didn't like the memories of the old room. Said they embarrassed him -- all those wasted years laying around sullen and useless, when he could have been running around like a normal child." Mary opened her mouth to defend her cousin, but Mrs. Medlock held up a hand in defense, cutting her off. "His words, miss, not mine. I memorized 'em so I would'na be bothered comin' up with me own." Mary smiled and settled back and Mrs. Medlock continued returning to her business-like tone. "Not much has changed since you left, miss. Most of the changes happened before you went off to school. Master Colin is learning how to take over the Manor and run it, but I've heard from the servants, who heard it from Martha, what heard it from Dickon, that he wishes to attend University and travel for a few years before assuming the responsibilities of running Misselthwaite. Not that there's too much he has yet to learn, but we'll see. I don't suppose Master Craven will deny him his wish. It would only be a couple of years, either way." She paused as the carriage jostled to a halt. "We must be here, Miss Mary." She paused. "Welcome home."
