enough to hunt in the little yellow, faded book for that picture, and
truly I wonder how that illustration had the power to create the very
least of my dreams unless it were that my immature mind was already
leavened by the memory of memories.

"The colonies!" Ah! how can I give an adequate idea of all that awoke
in my mind at the sound of these words? A fruit from there, a bird or a
shell, had instantly the greatest charm for me.

There were a number of things from the tropics in little Antoinette's
home: a parrot, birds of many colors in a cage, and collections of
shells and insects. In one of her mamma's bureau drawers I had seen
quaint necklaces of fragrant berries; in the garret, where we sometimes
rummaged, we found skins of animals and peculiar bags and cases upon
which could still be made out the names of towns in the Antilles; and a
faint tropical odor scented the entire house.

Antoinette's garden, as I have said, was separated from ours by a very
low wall overgrown with roses and jasmine. And the very old pomegranate
tree growing there spread its branches into our yard, and at the
blooming season its coral-red petals were scattered upon our grass.

Often we spoke from one house to the other:

"Can I come over and play with you?" I would ask. "Will your mamma allow
me?"

"No, because I have been naughty and I am being punished." (That
happened very often.)--Such an answer always grieved me a great deal;
but I must confess that it was more on account of my disappointment over