he felt her rebellious little tugs, and the wrench of her final defiance
when she did the awful thing. He had been told by a plain speaker that her
revolt was the fault of his severity. And here was the flesh of her
flesh--was it in the same spirit of revolt against authority, a
thousandfold magnified? Might he not by according the boy a wise liberty
save him in after years from some mad folly akin to his mother's?




CHAPTER VI

THE GARDEN OF TRUTH AND THE PERFECT FATHER


It was a different summer from those that had gone before it.

A little passionate Protestant had sallied out to make bed with the gods;
and the souls of such the just gods do truly take into certain shining
realms whither poor involatile bodies of flesh may not follow. The
requirement is that one feel his own potential godship enough to rebel.
For, having rebelled, he will assuredly venture beyond mortal domains into
that garden where stands the tree of Truth--this garden being that one to
the west just beyond the second fence (or whichever fence); that point
where the mortal of invertebrate soul is beset with the feeling that he
has already dared too far--that he had better make for home mighty quick
if he doesn't want Something to get him. The essence of this decision is
quite the same whether the mortal be eight years old or eighty. Now the
Tree of Truth stands just over this line at which all but the gods' own
turn to scamper back before supper. It is the first tree to the left--an