No one else has seen inside it for ten year'." Ten years was a long time, Mary thought.

She had been born ten years ago.
She walked away, slowly thinking.

She had begun to like the garden just as she had begun to like the robin and Dickon and Martha's mother.
She was beginning to like Martha, too.

That seemed a good many people to like--when you were not used to liking.

She thought of the robin as one of the people.