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Teresa watched their progress, critically, through half-closed lids. Yes, children are the right fauna for a garden—they turn it at once into a world that is miniature and Japanese. But perhaps a kitten prowling among flower-beds is better still—it is so amusing to watch man’s decorous arrangement of nature turning, under the gambols of the sinister little creature, into something primitive and tropical—bush, or jungle, or whatever they call it in Brazil and places; but Anna was getting too big.

Human beings too! Worse than the view, because more restless and more complicated, yet insisting on being dealt with; even Shelley could not keep out of his garden his somewhat Della Cruscan Lady.

The children came running up to her.

“You don’t know what we’ve found, what we’ve found, what we’ve found!” “Let me say! a dead hare, and we’ve buried him and....” “And I’ve found a new fern; I’ve got ten and a half kinds now and I ought to get a Girl Guide’s badge for them, and the Doña promised me some more blotting-paper, but....”