Mary had loved school. In fact, despite her wish to stay at home, she had excelled at school, and made more friends than she had imagined herself capable of making. It helped that these days more often than not her sweet nature won out over her sour nature. Every holiday she returned home to see uncle Archibald and cousin Colin, Martha, and perhaps even Dickon.

Dickon rarely came home on holidays; even though he missed his family terribly, he was very behind in his studies, and he could often complete extra assignments and get extra lessons if he stayed at school.

As a consequence Mary soon grew away from her closeness with Dickon. She knew he was wonderful, and she knew she had done the right thing by asking her uncle to help him gain more opportunities, and she was often curious about him, but she rarely missed him and made many new friends. By the time he graduated from school and came home for the summer before he was to start university, he was a virtual stranger.

Colin had accelerated his studies and was also due to begin university in the fall. Mary would be home, finished her schooling, and trying to find out how to be a suitable hostess for her uncle's sporadic house parties. Her uncle Archibald had started to be much more sociable, probably because soon he would have two children who would need to find partners in life.

"Father thinks you would make a good duchess, I understand," Colin said to her jokingly on the second day of his holiday.

"Just because he has invited the son of a duke here for a weekend this summer does not mean he wants me to marry the man. Besides, I think I would be the worst duchess in history. I would frequently disappear into the grounds and return muddy and carrying a frog," Mary said.

"How has the garden survived without your tender care?" Colin asked.

"Oh, very well. Have you not been out to see? It's ever so lovely. Ben has been outdoing himself. He almost smiled when I commented on the roses," Mary said.

"I daresay an almost smile is more than I've ever gotten from the fellow. I almost hope the fellow will be retired when I take over this household, for otherwise I shall be vastly intimidated by him. But I suppose the roses would suffer," Colin said.

"Have you seen Dickon since you returned home?"

"We met on the train. What a different fellow he is these days. Well, he's not changed in essentials. He's kind and all, but he's become rather cultured. I had a conversation with him about his ambitions. I rather like the fact he wants to be a doctor, and he wants to work here in the village. I could never imagine letting a sawbones near my future children; they made my life a disaster. But I could trust Dickon. I've never met a truly sensible doctor."

"I always thought he should be a doctor. I thought you would be one, too, in retribution for all you suffered at the hands of them in your time," Mary said.

"I'm not certain what I shall do. I would love to do research. It is a very exciting time in physics," Colin said.

The butler walked in a presented a card to Colin.

"Thanks Hatfield. Show him in," Colin said. "I forgot to mention it, didn't I? I invited Dickon over for tea today."

Mary felt an unexpected flutter of excitement in her stomach at the thought of seeing Dickon. The last time she had seen him had been two years ago. He had been so tall, but still possessed the sweet round eyes and rosy cheeks that had so endeared him to her the moment she had seen him. Now he must be quite grown up; almost a man.

Colin and Mary both stood when Dickon entered the room. She couldn't believe how handsome he had become! All the baby fat which had kept him looking adorable long past the time when any boy would appreciate looking sweet had been replaced by solid muscle. His shoulders were broad and the rest of his physique was trim. She was momentarily intimidated by the changes in him, but then he took her hand to shake it, and she looked in his eyes. They were the same eyes she remembered, and she relaxed in the company of the one person she had always known would never hurt her, or anyone. She smiled shyly and he grinned in return.

"Good day to you, miss Mary," he said, not a hint of Yorkshire in his accent.

Mary felt bereft at its lost. "Does not tha' speak thy native tongue any longer?" she asked.

"Whenever I get the chance. You know, some people have trouble understanding such a broad accent as I once had, in the South," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I remember asking you to repeat quite a few words myself," she said.

The three of them sat down. Colin and Dickon discussed some mutual acquaintances and Mary took the opportunity to ring for tea. She poured when it arrived, and then she sat back and looked at Dickon, wondering what it must be like for him to come sit in the drawing room in the house where his sister was an upstairs maid. It must be strange, but then Dickon had always had the ability to seem comfortable in any company. Uncle Archibald had always said it was because he and his whole family were sensible people, but Mary suspected it was because Dickon had always known what it was like to be loved. He had always had a family who adored him, and the respect and affection of the entire village. He never seemed to do anything to hurt anybody, or make any enemies. Perhaps it was because he was kind.

"What do you think, Mary?" Colin was asking her.

"I'm sorry. I was woolgathering, I am afraid," she said.

"Dickon suggested we see the garden. What do you think?"

"Of course," Mary said. She thought of the place that had somehow contributed to all of their salvations. Uncle Archibald had gotten over the death of his wife and bonded with his son, she had learned to love England and not be so contrary, Colin had realized he wasn't an invalid after all, and Dickon had been given the opportunity for a better life. It was also just plain beautiful. She knew just how it would smell after the rain the previous night. The rich earthy smell of soil that made her feel calm and connected to the earth.

"I'll be along in half an hour, shall I? I've got to return a letter—business, you see. Father's trying to make me take more responsibility," Colin said.

Mary and Dickon were happy to be left alone. Colin had immense energy and imagination, but his mental and physical restlessness was a little at odds with the calm, quiet comfortableness which had always existed between her and Dickon. Mary was pleased as she walked with her arm linked in his, that just as in the past, conversation was not required between them.

They stopped at the gate and Dickon reached over to open the door. He hesitated for a moment, looking at Mary. "Is it all quite wick?" he asked. There was no question in his mind that she had come to the garden soon after returning home, she noticed. If anyone knew how important the garden was to her, it was Dickon.

"Quite, quite wick," she said.

"And just a little bit wild and untidy?"

"Yes," she said, for some reason almost breathless. The moment passed before she had any time to wonder what she was feeling.

Soon they were walking through the garden. "It seems smaller, doesn't it?" Dickon asked, his voice somewhat disappointed.

"The terrible cost of growing older," Mary said, smiling. "Everything shrinks."

"It is still the most beautiful garden I have ever seen," Dickon said. Then he did something that truly made Mary's heart do flip-flops. He went down on his hands and knees and smelt the earth, then lay down and looked up at the sky. "I've missed you, Yorkshire," he whispered.

Mary sat down on the lawn. She was rather too old and too refined these days to feel quite comfortable sitting on the ground, but she remembered lying beside this boy and staring up at the clouds too well to let the opportunity pass.

Dickon propped himself up on an elbow and reached over, taking a rose from a nearby rosebush. He carefully removed the thorns and handed it to Mary.

"Tha' art beautiful Mary," he whispered.

"So are thee," she said, smelling the rose.

Strangely, when they heard Colin approaching, his letter written, neither felt his presence was an intrusion, despite the new awareness that perhaps there was slightly more than friendship between them. They laughed at being caught lying on the ground and invited him to join them.

To Mary's surprise, he did, and the three of them spent the next hour relaxing and catching up on all they had missed since they had last been together.