within its heart. Angelina felt how immensely she and Rose might have
enjoyed all this had they been alone. Her eyes gazed longingly at the
almond tree; she wished that she might go off on a voyage of discovery
for, on this day of all days, did its shadow seem to hold some pressing,
intimate invitation. "I shall get back--I shall get back.... He'll come
and take me; I'll remember all the old things," she thought. She and
Rose--what a time they might have if only---- She glanced up at her aunt.

"Look at that nice little boy, Angelina," Aunt Emily said. "See how
good----" But at that very instant that same playful breeze that had been
ruffling the daffodils, and sending shimmers through the fountain
decided that now was the moment to catch Miss Emily's black hat at one
corner, prove to her that the pin that should have fastened it to her
hair was loose, and swing the whole affair to one side. Up went her
hands; she gave a little cry of dismay.

Instantly, then, Angelina was determined. She did not suppose that her
freedom would be for long, nor did she hope to have time to reach the
almond tree; but her small, stumpy legs started off down the path almost
before she was aware of it. She started, and Rose bumped against her as
she ran. She heard behind her cries; she saw in front of her the almond
tree, and then coming swiftly towards her a small boy with a hoop....
She stopped, hesitated, and then fell. The golden afternoon, with all
its scents and sounds, passed on above her head. She was conscious that
a hand was on her shoulder, she was lifted and shaken. Tears trickling
down the side of her nose were checked by little points of gravel. She
was aware that the little boy with the hoop had stopped and said
something. Above her, very large and grim, was her aunt. Some bird on a
tree was making a noise like the drawing of a cork. (She had heard her
nurse once draw one.) In her heart was utter misery. The gravel hurt her