"Very well, my dear," replied the Man of Wrath, "only do not grumble
afterwards when you find it dull. You shall be solitary if you choose,
and, as far as I am concerned, I will invite no one. It is always best
to allow a woman to do as she likes if you can, and it saves a good deal
of bother. To have what she desired is generally an effective
punishment."

"Dear Sage," I cried, slipping my hand through his arm, "don't be so
wise! I promise you that I won't be dull, and I won't be punished, and I
will be happy."

And we sauntered slowly back to the house in great contentment,
discussing the firmament and such high things, as though we knew all
about them.

May 15th.--There is a dip in the rye-fields about half a mile from my
garden gate, a little round hollow like a dimple, with water and reeds
at the bottom, and a few water-loving trees and bushes on the shelving
ground around. Here I have been nearly every morning lately, for it
suits the mood I am in, and I like the narrow footpath to it through the
rye, and I like its solitary dampness in a place where everything is
parched, and when I am lying on the grass and look down I can see the
reeds glistening greenly in the water, and when I look up I can see the
rye-fringe brushing the sky. All sorts of beasts come and stare at me,
and larks sing above me, and creeping things crawl over me, and stir in
the long grass beside me; and here I bring my book, and read and dream
away the profitable morning hours, to the accompaniment of the amorous
croakings of innumerable frogs.