The Happy Garden 



thought of life being so organised that all the 

 machinery of it was hidden. 



" Bother your flowers," she seemed to say, 

 though she could never put it so vigorously, " let 

 me see your grocer's bills." 



And so she shall — between chapters. 



Master Gardener is in his perambulator on the 

 courtyard, kicking, and crowing, and glad that he 

 can see a little more to-day than he could yester- 

 day, and certain that he will see a great deal more 

 to-morrow. It must be a fine time of life when 

 the world unfolds itself in daily miracles, when 

 to-day appears a great tree where none was yester- 

 day, and out of the darkness emerge shapes ever 

 more and more wonderful, faces kind and terrifying, 

 colours and lights more and more dazzling and 

 brilliant. . . . But Jane has no philosophy. To 

 her a baby is a baby and she must hug it. 



She does so. 



She says, " Ooza-popsy-wops . . . '' and 

 Master Gardener roars lustily. His mother comes 

 at a run, glares at Jane, snatches her precious son 

 from her uncomfortable arms ; at once his mouth 

 closes, his eyes open and his face is wreathed in 

 the fattest of smiles. 



Perhaps Jane would be better for a little 

 philosophy. 



88 



