It occurred to him to get a close look at a wonderful piece of
Mr. O'Neill's work that stood in the center of the beautiful lawn
facing the central gateway.

The floral piece was a little house, about the size of a large
dog house, all made of growing plants. The sides were green, and
the roof was lovely shades of red foliage plants. They were all
clipped short and smooth, and it was the prettiest thing
imaginable. There was even a door with broad hinges, looking as
though it would really open, and the little windows were glass.
Porky had always thought that the inside must be of solid earth;
but when he walked close, and stooped to look in he was surprised
to find it a real little wooden house with wooden wall and floor,
and over that a steel lattice work where the plants were rooted
in moss and earth. He pushed against the door, and it fell in.
He had trouble in getting it up, and was afraid some of the
guards would happen along, so he crawled inside. It was softly
warm from the hot sun that had beat on the plants and earth all
day, and after he had propped the door it, he leaned against the
wall. And immediately what did Porky Potter do but fall asleep.

The sun went down and the dusty panes of glass in the little
house reflected the glancing lights of official automobiles that
swept along the smooth drives. Far away on the hill the bugles
sounded taps. Some one leaned against the little house, and
Porky woke with a start. A man's shoulders bulked against one of
the little windows as he lowered himself to the soft grass and
leaned against the house.

Some one chuckled.