The secret garden

IN THE GARDEN 357and had thrown himself down to rest on a carpetof moss by a stream. It was a clear little streamwhich ran quite merrily along on its narrow waythrough the luscious damp greenness. Sometimesit made a sound rather like very low laughter asit bubbled over and round stones. He saw birdscome and dip their heads to drink in it and thenflick their wings and fly away. It seemed like avoice made the stillnessthing alive and yet its tinyseem deeper. The valley was very, verystill.As he sat gazing into the clear running of thewater, Archibald Craven gradually felt his mindand body both grow quiet, as quiet as the valleyitself. He wondered if he were going to sleep,but he was not. He sat and gazed at the sunlitwater and his eyes began to see things growing atits edge. There was one lovely mass of blueforget-me-nots growing so close to the stream thatits leaves were wet and at these he found himselflooking as he remembered he had looked at suchthings years ago. He was actually thinking tenderlyhow lovelyit was and what wonders of blueits hundreds of little blossoms were. He did notknow that just that simple thought was slowlyfilling his mind filling and fillingit until otherthings were softly pushed aside. It was as if asweet clear spring had begun to rise in a stagnantpool and had risen and risen until at last it swept