Free Celia's House by D. E. Stevenson

surprised when the door opened and Mummy appeared.
    â€œIs everything all right?” asked Mummy.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” replied Nannie, rising from her chair. “The little girls are both asleep and Mark’s nearly finished his supper. We won’t bother with a bath tonight; he’ll just go straight off, I expect. We’re getting on very nice. Yes, ma’am, everything’s quite all right.”
    Mummy sat down for a minute and Nannie, who had finished her supper, bustled about, putting everything to rights. “It’s a lovely nursery,” she declared. “Such nice cupboards and cork carpet on the floor and nice light washable blinds. I had wooden blinds in my last nursery, nasty heavy things that were always going wrong—venereal blinds they were called.”
    Mummy laughed and choked. Her voice was quite trembly as she said, “I’m glad you like the nursery, Nannie.”
    â€œI’d be hard to please if I didn’t,” Nannie said emphatically.
    â€¢ • •
    The next morning was fine and sunny. Nannie took out her sewing and settled herself on the seat beneath the old beech tree at the end of the lawn. Baby was asleep in the pram and Edith was sitting on a rug looking at a picture book. Mark stood and stared about him. It was all so strange. It was all so different—even the air had a different kind of smell.
    â€œYou needn’t stay here,” said Nannie, smiling at him. “Go explore, Mark.”
    It was a new word. “Explore?” he asked.
    â€œGo look around,” explained Nannie. “Go wherever you like. I’ll call you when it’s time for your milk.”
    He walked away across the grass. It was funny to walk on grass instead of on pavements; it was funny to be told you could go wherever you liked. Once or twice he stopped and looked back at the little group beneath the tree. Nannie waved to him, and he waved back. He felt big and grown up. He was going to explore.
    There was a path leading down between the trees and bushes. Mark walked along solemnly. He heard the birds singing and a rushing sound in the distance; that was the sea, of course. It was funny to walk along all by yourself with nobody in sight. It was rather nice, but—but supposing you got lost? Supposing you couldn’t find your way back? He hesitated and looked up the path; there was nothing to be seen but trees and bushes. He began to go back and then he stopped again. He was going to explore. He hadn’t explored anything yet. Nannie would think he was silly. Mark turned again. He put his hands in his pockets and marched on, head in air. Presently he came to a big high wall with a door in it. The door was open and Mark stood in the entrance and looked in. There was a garden inside the door, a huge big garden with all sorts of things growing in it, and there was a man with a rake, raking one of the beds. Mark watched the man for a little while. The man couldn’t object to Mark looking in at the door and watching him.
    When he had finished raking the bed the man looked up and saw Mark and said, “Good morning.”
    â€œGood morning,” Mark said politely.
    â€œIt’s a fine day,” said the man.
    â€œThis is a very nice garden,” said Mark.
    â€œIt’s not bad. Are you coming in, Master Mark?”
    â€œMay I?” Mark asked eagerly.
    The man laughed. He said, “Well, I don’t know who’s got a better right. Come away in and we’ll find an apple.”
    Mark came in and looked around. He followed the man along the path, and soon they came to a part of the wall where there were trees growing, little trees with apples on them.
    â€œI’ll need to find you a ripe one,” said the man. “They ripen early on this wall. It faces south.”
    Mark watched him looking for a ripe apple. He said, “I live at Dunnian now.”
    â€œSo do I,” replied the man. “I was