The Garden Without Walls

rown of one who is intensely in earnest, whose mind is very much occupied. His mustaches were the fiercest and most eager that I ever saw on any man. They stuck out at right angles fr

all tie of black silk wobbled. Hurrying up the path, tugging at his bushy eye-brows, he disappeared into the house. The last I saw of him was a red bandana handkerchief

d tones with which she enticed our milkman every morning. I perceived at once that something momentous had occurred, and came out from behind the bushes. Then I saw the reason for her sudden change of manners—the purple mustached stranger was

house she became volubl

er once in yer h’existence. It may mean h’everythin’. That gent’s some relation o’ yourn. ’E’s goin’ t

nspired to wriggle; by some occult power the dreadful personage downstairs might learn about it. Having been pitched into

ce carpet—the one which ought to have been ma

is your great-uncle, Obadiah Spreck

such a relative, but I came t

e little fellow, and the image of

. My great-uncle spread his legs still wider

me hens. Got up early this morning. Saw the sun shining.

be going. I’ll take good care of him and all

id good-bye to my father and was standing

hanged his manner. His hurry left him. Placing his hands on my shoulders

ittle dog-cart and pony. My bag was stowed under the seat; at a click

ram-lines were streaks of silver down the streets, shops were palaces, cabbies gentlemen who plied their trade because they loved horses. Postmen going their rounds were philanthropists. Everyone was free, doing what he liked, and happy. In my chil

now, old chap. She costs me ten shillings a week for fodder. But when I saw that coster whacking her, and she looked up into my eyes when I wen

onversation—a thing which no one had thought worth doing. He asked me questions which were not senseless, and seemed to sup

r London Bridge to the Elephant and Castle, and so out tow

’ll have lunch ready. She’s expecting us. She’s very precise about the keeping of hour

e woods and farm-houses. We stopped for lunch at a village-inn. It stood on the edge of a gorse-common. On the common a donkey was grazing. A flock of geese wandered ac

“my good fellows.” He was very dignified, and benevolent, and haughty. They were much impressed. But when they had left and we were alone, he winked his eye

the big ear-rings which dropped upon her neck jangled. Recognizing my uncle she nodded, and allowed us to sit down and watch her. Presently a rough man came out of the woods and threw himself down beside us. A young woman returned from fortune-telling, with her baby in a shawl across her shoulders. Bowls were brought out, and we

nted with a number of queer people. “Everybody’s interesting, Dante,” he s

be a gipsy, but had never dared. When I asked why not, he answered s

t any Aunt Lavinia—

to,” he said,

years those words, chance-spoken to a child, remain with me. They were as nea

her own invention. She called my great-uncle The Spuffler. Whether the verb to Spuffle is Suffolk dialect or

; he deceives others and almost deceives himself. He is usually small in stature and not infrequently bald-headed. In conversing he makes an imaginary lather with his hands and points his finger, at you. He may splutter and spit when he gets excited; but this is accidental and not necessary. The prime requisite is that he should affect the

dren they had the hearts of children and were delightful. With business men their light-heartedness counted as irresponsibility and was a drawback. In two out of the three cases named, the disappointments which resulted from con

house grew up before us. At one time it must have been the country estate of some city-merchant. At sound of our wheels on the gravel, the front-door opened and a little lady stepped out to greet us. She

arge room at the back, which looked into a shadowy garden and a paddock beyond. It seemed

ell, Lavinia, I couldn’t get home to lunc

stream of strenuous pretense, discussing large plans aloud with himself. What they were I cannot now remember. I suppose my grandmother would have called them spuffle. Suddenly he rose from the table, saying tha

r I felt very lonely at first. She h

knew at once that, like most grown-ups when they are togeth

?” she asked. “Oh, he can’t deceive me;

up a chair to the window and sat with me in the dark with her arms about me. She seemed extraordinarily young, and when her silky gr

with fire-light and children. She was childless. Into both these worlds a little boy might enter. That night as I lay awake