The Garden Without Walls

n has neglected. He derived nearly all his pleasures from the cheerful little things of life. A curious sympathy existed between him and the lower creation.

ize that all-surrounding was a kingdom of beasts and bir

re a cow, a goat, some very domestically inclined rabbits, about a hundred hens, and innumerable London s

he dewy lawn, dappled golden by sunlight falling through leaves, the droning of bees setting forth from hives on their day’s excursion, the smok

rden, like a man inspired, making lightning calculations of the sums he would one day realize. He was continually experimenting and crossing breeds with a view to producing a more prolific strain of layers. He had a dream that one

ery failings as we do the faults of our friends. She was secretly proud of her own capacity; her thwarted mother-instinct found an outlet in the sense of his dependence. Nevertheless, the great fundamental cleavage lay between them: she lived in an anxious world where tradesmen’s bills required punctual payment; his wor

The Society for the Assisting of Decrepit. Ladies, etc. The positions were honorary because he could find no one willing to pay him. He worked for nothing because he was ashamed of being fo

of his many plans. When she awoke to the fact that her husband was not a man, but the incarnation of perpetual boyhood, she may have been disappointed, but she did not show it. Like a sensible woman, instead of crying her eyes out, she set about earning a livelihood. Unc

midday meal, from which they were absent, it was omitted. The Christian Boarding House idea caught on with provincial parents whose sons were moving up to the

roof. She made such a gallant show with what she earned that everyone thought her husband had a private fortune, which enabled him to live in such style and give so much time to charitable works. She would hint as much in conv

ght never have met Ruthita. My money-making instincts were roused by his talk of the profits to be derived from eggs. I was enthusiastic to follow in his footsteps. To this end, at the hour of

discussed with Uncle Obad all the care that was necessary for egg-production. I got him to work out sums for me. If my hen were to lay an egg every other day throughout the year, how much money would I make by selling each egg to my father at a pe

he lawn to stretch her legs. My father was busy as usual, but he

again. “You have known your uncle just a fortnight,” he said, “and yet you seem to have told him more about yourself than you have told me in all these ye

d draw me out. But he spoke to me as though I was a grown man, whereas my uncle to get near me had become himself a child. If he had on

y he was working for my sake. “I want to have the money to give you a g

alked about poultry-raising. I had no idea where money came from or how it was obtained. I must have asked him some question about it

, peered above my father’s shoulder, and sank out

d flung a bar of light across the shrubbery. He was working to get the money that I might be allowed to work. I didn’t like the idea.

s too high up for me to reach her from the ground. When I scattered grain, she blinked at me knowingly, as much as to say, “Surely you don’t think I’m as big a fool as that.” It seemed to me that she was grieving for all the cocks and hens to whom she had said farewell. She was embittered against me because she was solitary. I explained to her that, if she

as too excited at this crisis to measure my temerity. In my fear of losing her I did a thing undreamt of and unplanned—I swung myself from the br

a light was burning; all the rest was in darkness. In the middle of the lawn I could see my white hen strutting in a very stately manner. I stole up behind her, but she began clucking. In my fear

d that a little girl was

me’s D

ne’s Ru

tle girl and for some reason, difficult to explain, commenced to tremb

d. “How pretty!” Then

mb in the direc

limbed

do it again? Oh, do come often, often. I’

of Hetty began to

where are you? Come

us on the other side of the wall. We could hear the indignant rustle of her

ere always to haunt me. Her hands were clasped against her throat in eagerness—she seemed t

rom

d in the wall. When I sat astride it, ju

lost her importa

wanted to discover where I had been hiding, but I wouldn’t tell her. When she left me, I c

louds, and the branches reached up to touch her with their fingers. A little beam of

son now—rather a place of magic