So far from complete at times is sympathy between
parents and children, and so much like wild beasts are baby boys,
little fighting, biting, climbing pagans.
Father was proud of his garden and seemed always to be trying to make
it as much like Eden as possible, and in a corner of it he gave each
of us a little bit of ground for our very own in which we planted what
we best liked, wondering how the hard dry seeds could change into soft
leaves and flowers and find their way out to the light; and, to see
how they were coming on, we used to dig up the larger ones, such as
peas and beans, every day. My aunt had a corner assigned to her in our
garden which she filled with lilies, and we all looked with the utmost
respect and admiration at that precious lily-bed and wondered whether
when we grew up we should ever be rich enough to own one anything like
so grand. We imagined that each lily was worth an enormous sum of
money and never dared to touch a single leaf or petal of them. We
really stood in awe of them. Far, far was I then from the wild lily
gardens of California that I was destined to see in their glory.
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