MRS. MEDLOCK. They could n't well change for the worse, and queer as it all is there are those who find their duties made a lot easier to stand up under. Don't you be surprised, Mr. Roach, if you find yourself in the middle of a menagerie and Martha Sowerby's Dickon more at home than you or I could be.

MR. ROACH. Dickon would be at home in Buckingham Palace or at the bottom of a coal mine. And yet it's not impudence, either. He's just fine, is that lad. [Enter COLIN's room. MARY, COLIN and DICKON are feeding squirrels and a tame crow that DICKON has brought in with him.]

MRS. MEDLOCK. Here is Mr. Roach, Master Colin.

COLIN. [Very haughtily.] Oh, you are Roach, are you? I sent for you to give you some very important orders.

MR. ROACH. Very good, sir.

COLIN. I am going out in my chair this afternoon. If the fresh air agrees with me I may go out every day. When I go, none of the gardeners are to be anywhere near the Long Walk by the garden walls. No one is to be there. I shall go out about two o'clock and all must keep away until I send word that they may go back to their work.

MR. ROACH. Very good, sir.

COLIN. Mary, what is that thing you say in India when you have finished talking and want people to go.

MARY. [Standing and bowing very deeply.] You say, "You have my permission to go.'

COLIN. You have my permission to go, Roach, but remember this is very important.

MR. ROACH. Very good, sir. Thank you, sir. [Smiles

at MRS. MEDLOCK as they pass out.]

COLIN. [Turning to children.] this afternoon I shall be in it!

It's all safe now, and

MARY. What big eyes you 've got, Colin. When you are thinking they get as big as saucers.

thinking about now?

What are you

COLIN. I can't help thinking what it will look like.

MARY. The garden?

COLIN. The springtime. I was thinking that I've really never seen it before. I scarcely ever went out and when I did I never looked at it. I did n't even think about it. That morning when you ran in and said, "It 's come! It's come!" you made me feel quite queer. It sounded as if things were coming with a great procession and big bursts and wafts of music. I've a picture like it in one of my books-crowds of lovely people and children with garlands and branches with blossoms on them, every one laughing and dancing and crowding and playing on pipes. That was why I said, "Perhaps we shall hear golden trumpets" and told you to throw open the window.

MARY. How funny! That's really just what it feels like. And if all the flowers and leaves and green things and birds and wild creatures danced past at once, what a crowd it would be! I am sure they 'd dance and sing and flute and that would be the wafts of music. [Both laugh joyously.] Here comes your nurse to get you ready.

[COLIN is placed in rolling chair. DICKON pushes it, while MARY walks by his side.]

[As the phonograph begins to play "Bird Songsters" or any selection with bird notes, all the children in the assembly room suddenly hold up roses, daffodils, lilies and greens.]

COLIN. There are so many sounds of singing and humming and calling out. What is that scent the puffs of wind bring?

DICKON. It's gorse on the moor that 's opening out. Eh, the bees are at it wonderful to-day.

MARY. [Whispering.] This is it, this is where I used to walk up and down and wonder and wonder and wonder. [Peering.] But I can see nothing, there

COLIN. Is it? [Peering.]

is no door.

MARY. That's what I thought. That is the garden where Ben Weatherstaff works; there is where the robin flew over the wall, and there is where he perched on the little heap of earth and showed me the key.

COLIN. Where? Where? Where?

MARY. And here is the handle, and here is the door. Dickon, push him in quickly!

COLIN. [Gazing in rapture at the flowers on all sides.] I shall get well! I shall get well! Mary, Dickon! I shall get well! And I shall live forever and ever and ever! [DICKON pushes chair to different parts of the "garden" while the interlude is recited.]

INTERLUDE. "One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure

one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawntime and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun-which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.

DICKON. Eh! it is graidely. I'm twelve going on thirteen and there are a lot of afternoons in thirteen years, but it seems to me like I never seed one as graidely as this 'ere.

MARY. Aye, it is a graidely one, I'll warrant it 's the graidelest one as ever was in this world.

COLIN. Does tha' think, as happen it was made loike this 'ere all o' purpose for me? [All laugh heartily.]

MARY. [Admiringly.] My word! that there is a bit of good Yorkshire. Thou 'rt shaping firstrate-that tha' art. DICKON. See, there is the robin now!

COLIN. Oh, where? Yes, yes. Oh, I don't want this

afternoon to go, but I shall come back to-morrow, and the day after, and the day after.

MARY. You'll get plenty of fresh air, won't you?

COLIN. I'm going to get nothing else.

I've seen the spring now and I 'm going to see the summer. I'm going to see everything grow here. I'm going to grow here myself.

DICKON. That tha' will. We'll have thee walking about here and digging same as other folk afore long.

COLIN. Walk! Dig! Shall I?

DICKON. For sure tha' will. Tha'-tha' got legs of thine own, same as other folks!

COLIN. Nothing really ails them, but they are so thin and weak. They shake so that I am afraid to try to stand on them. [DICKON and MARY exchange relieved glances, as they had not been sure that his legs were all right.]— Who is that man? [Both turn quickly.]

MARY and DICKON.

[Excitedly.]

Man?

BEN WEATHERSTAFF. [Shaking fist at MARY from his stand on top of a ladder; looking over the wall.] If I was n't a bachelor and tha' was a wench of mine, I 'd give thee a hiding. I never thought much of thee! I never knew how tha' got so thick with me. If it had na' been for the robin-drat him

MARY. [Jumping in front of COLIN to hide him.] Ben Weatherstaff, it was the robin that showed me the way!

BEN WEATHERSTAFF. Thou young bad un, laying tha' badness on a robin-not but what he 's impudent enough