When you smelt mignonette you thought of Mamma and Mark and the sumach
tree, and Papa standing on the steps, and the queer laugh that came out
of his beard.

When it rained you were naughty and unhappy because you couldn't go out
of doors. Then Mamma stood at the window and looked into the front
garden. She smiled at the rain. She said, "It will be good for my
sumach tree."

Every day you went out on to the steps to see if the sumach tree had
grown.


VIII.

The white lamb stood on the table beside her cot.

Mamma put it there every night so that she could see it first thing in
the morning when she woke.

She had had a birthday. Suddenly in the middle of the night she was
five years old.

She had kept on waking up with the excitement of it. Then, in the dark
twilight of the room, she had seen a bulky thing inside the cot,
leaning up against the rail. It stuck out queerly and its weight
dragged the counterpane tight over her feet.

The birthday present. What she saw was not its real shape. When she