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and things came and went in them； my dear mother； whom I had near
forgotten； then my father； stern and upright； the servants； the
nursery； all the familiar things of home。 Then the front door and
the busy streets； with traffic to and fro： I looked and marvelled；
and looked half doubtfully again into the woman's face and turned
the pages over； skipping this and that； to see more of this book；
and more； and so at last I came to myself hovering and hesitating
outside the green door in the long white wall； and felt again the
conflict and the fear。
〃'And next？' I cried； and would have turned on； but the cool
hand of the grave woman delayed me。
〃'Next？' I insisted； and struggled gently with her hand；
pulling up her fingers with all my childish strength； and as she
yielded and the page came over she bent down upon me like a shadow
and kissed my brow。
〃But the page did not show the enchanted garden； nor the
panthers； nor the girl who had led me by the hand； nor the
playfellows who had been so loth to let me go。 It showed a long
grey street in West Kensington； on that chill hour of afternoon
before the lamps are lit； and I was there； a wretched little
figure； weeping aloud； for all that I could do to restrain myself；
and I was weeping because I could not return to my dear
play…fellows who had called after me； 'Come back to us！ Come back
to us soon！' I was there。 This was no page in a book； but harsh
reality； that enchanted place and the restraining hand of the grave
mother at whose knee I stood had gonewhither have they gone？〃
He halted again； and remained for a time； staring into the fire。
〃Oh！ the wretchedness of that return！〃 he murmured。
〃Well？〃 I said after a minute or so。
〃Poor little wretch I wasbrought back to this grey world
again！ As I realised the fulness of what had happened to me； I
gave way to quite ungovernable grief。 And the shame and
humiliation of that public weeping and my disgraceful homecoming
remain with me still。 I see again the benevolent…looking old
gentleman in gold spectacles who stopped and spoke to meprodding
me first with his umbrella。 'Poor little chap；' said he； 'and are
you lost then？'and me a London boy of five and more！ And he must
needs bring in a kindly young policeman and make a crowd of me； and
so march me home。 Sobbing； conspicuous and frightened； I came from
the enchanted garden to the steps of my father's house。
〃That is as well as I can remember my vision of that
gardenthe garden that haunts me still。 Of course； I can convey
nothing of that indescribable quality of translucent unreality；
that difference from the common things of experience that hung
about it all； but thatthat is what happened。 If it was a dream；
I am sure it was a day…time and altogether extraordinary dream 。 。
。 。 。 。 H'm！naturally there followed a terrible questioning； by
my aunt； my father； the nurse； the governesseveryone 。 。 。 。 。 。
〃I tried to tell them； and my father gave me my first
thrashing for telling lies。 When afterwards I tried to tell my
aunt； she punished me again for my wicked persistence。 Then； as I
said； everyone was forbidden to listen to me； to hear a word about
it。 Even my fairy tale books were taken away from me for a
timebecause I was 'too imaginative。' Eh？ Yes； they did that！ My
father belonged to the old school 。 。 。 。 。 And my story was driven
back upon myself。 I whispered it to my pillowmy pillow that was
often damp and salt to my whispering lips with childish tears。 And
I added always to my official and less fervent prayers this one
heartfelt request： 'Please God I may dream of the garden。 Oh！ take
me back to my garden！ Take me back to my garden！'
〃I dreamt often of the garden。 I may have added to it； I may
have changed it； I do not know 。 。 。 。 。 All this you understand
is an attempt to reconstruct from fragmentary memories a very early
experience。 Between that and the other consecutive memories of my
boyhood there is a gulf。 A time came when it seemed impossible I
should ever speak of that wonder glimpse again。〃
I asked an obvious question。
〃No；〃 he said。 〃I don't remember that I ever attempted to
find my way back to the garden in those early years。 This seems
odd to me now； but I think that very probably a closer watch was
kept on my movements after this misadventure to prevent my going
astray。 No； it wasn't until you knew me that I tried for the
garden again。 And I believe there was a period incredible as it
seems nowwhen I forgot the garden altogetherwhen I was about
eight or nine it may have been。 Do you remember me as a kid at
Saint Athelstan's？〃
〃Rather！〃
〃I didn't show any signs did I in those days of having a secret dream？〃
II
He looked up with a sudden smile。
〃Did you ever play North…West Passage with me？ 。 。 。 。 。 No；
of course you didn't come my way！〃
〃It was the sort of game；〃 he went on； 〃that every imaginative
child plays all day。 The idea was the discovery of a North…West
Passage to school。 The way to school was plain enough； the game
consisted in finding some way that wasn't plain； starting off ten
minutes early in some almost hopeless direction； and working one's
way round through unaccustomed streets to my goal。 And one day I
got entangled among some rather low…class streets on the other side
of Campden Hill； and I began to think that for once the game would
be against me and that I should get to school late。 I tried rather
desperately a street that seemed a cul de sac； and found a
passage at the end。 I hurried through that with renewed hope。 'I
shall do it yet；' I said； and passed a row of frowsy little shops
that were inexplicably familiar to me； and behold！ there was my
long white wall and the green door that led to the enchanted
garden！
〃The thing whacked upon me suddenly。 Then； after all； that garden；
that wonderful garden； wasn't a dream！〃 。 。 。 。
He paused。
〃I suppose my second experience with the green door marks the
world of difference there is between the busy life of a schoolboy
and the infinite leisure of a child。 Anyhow； this second time I
didn't for a moment think of going in straight away。 You see 。 。
。 For one thing my mind was full of the idea of getting to school
in timeset on not breaking my record for punctuality。 I must
surely have felt SOME little desire at least to try the
dooryes； I must have felt that 。 。 。 。 。 But I seem to remember
the attraction of the door mainly as another obstacle to my
overmastering determination to get to school。 I was immediately
interested by this discovery I had made； of courseI went on with
my mind full of itbut I went on。 It didn't check me。 I ran past
tugging out my watch； found I had ten minutes still to spare； and
then I was going downhill into familiar surroundings。 I got to
school； breathless； it is true； and wet with perspiration； but in
time。