PUTTING THE GARDEN TO SLEEP 259 



' Where the bee sucks, there suck I, 

 In the cowslip's bell I lie, 

 There I couch when owls do fly,' " 



she quoted. "Don't you remember? " 



"Yes, yes ; that is the kind." 



"But what did he do in the garden? " 



"What did he do? He would swing on the poppy 

 buds and try to hold them down when they wished 

 to straighten and open ; and then he would perch on 

 the stems of the little columbines and set them 

 dancing, and perhaps he would ring chimes on the 

 canterbury-bells ; and at night" 



"At night?" asked the listener, with wide brown 

 eyes intent on the old gardener's face. 



"At night he would curl himself on the soft poppy 

 petals, and the poppy would fold the pretty petals 

 about him, and he would go to sleep. 



"But when the flowers are gone he feels sorry ; 

 he has no playmates ; he stays a little, looking for 

 them and hoping that they will come back. We 

 cannot see him, but we hear him talking to himself 

 among the borders, and we feel sorry, too." 



The under-gardener was silent a moment. 



"Don't you know where he goes then?" 



Mr. Trommel shook his head. 



