"Wasn't it pretty!" she said dreamily, "with the line of hollyhocks
against the red brick wall, and the big, bushy pine tree in the corner.
Everything was bright except that tree."
His eyes narrowed in wistful retrospect:
"It was as if all the shadows in the garden had concentrated
there--huddled together in one place so that the rest could be full of
color and sunshine. And when Daddy John and I wanted to cut it down
you wouldn't let us, cried and stamped, and so, of course, we gave it
up. I actually believe you had a sentiment about that tree."
"I suppose I had, though I don't know exactly what you mean by a
sentiment. I loved it because I'd once had such a perfect time up
there among the branches. The top had been cut off and a ring of
boughs was left round the place, and it made the most comfortable seat,
almost like a cradle. One day you went to New York and when you came
back you brought me a box of candy. Do you remember it--burnt almonds
and chocolate drops with a dog painted on the cover? Well, I wanted to
get them at their very best, enjoy them as much as I could, so I
climbed to the seat in the top of the pine and ate them there.
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