CHAPTER XVII. THE LEO PARD We simply must write to Aunt Emilyne," said Caroline earnestly. I've got three new pens and some scented violet ink. I got it at the shop yesterday—it's lovely! And I've been counting up the picture postcards she and Uncle Percival have sent us. There are forty-two, and twenty-eight of those have come since we wrote last. I'd almost rather not have the postcards. They make you feel so horrid when you don't write," said Charles. Suppose we send picture postcards, you don't have to write nearly so much. I think that would be shirking, said Charlotte, who did not want to go out, and more than half believed what she said. Come on, if we must, we must. Necessity doesn't know the law. You write, too, Rupert, said Charles kindly. Put some Latin in—they'll love that. Or perhaps you'd tell me some to say. I can put it in if you say how I ought to spell it. But Rupert said he couldn't be bothered, and took down a book, Jesse's anecdotes of dogs it was, with alluring pictures and delightful stories, but he did not really read it. Caroline, looking up in an agony of ignorance as to the way you spelt, as a fetida, which the medicine book said was good for, pains in the head, brought about by much study of the printed book, saw that Rupert's eyes were fixed in a dismal stare on the portrait above the mantelpiece, the portrait of Dame Eleanor. He was looking at it as though he did not see it, and yet Charlotte could not help saying, Isn't she splendid? She knew all about spells and things. It's her books we do it out of, at least most of it. If she knew all about them, she knew what rot and rot they were, said Rupert. You never try to do anything with your spells, except the things that would happen just the same without your spelling. What's that about my spelling? asked Caroline, who had made a bold dash for what she remembered of the way the word looked in the medicine book, and written in a violent, violent smudge, aphor for a deity. I say your magic isn't real. We saw you when you were invisible, Caroline began, laying down her pen, whose wet nib at once tried to dry, turning from purple to golden green bronze. And then, Yes, I know, said Rupert, but if it's really real, why don't you do something with it that can't really happen in purees, nata relativus? That means just naturally. Why don't you bring back Mrs. Wilmington's cat that's lost? Or find my co-in-or pencil? Then there's the thing in that book, Mr. Penfoldscott. He told me about it. You make a wax image of your enemy and stick pins into it.  How awfully wicked, said Caroline in an awestruck voice.  Oh, don't, said Charlotte. Yes, do, said Charles. What else? Oh, nothing else. It's better if you get a bit of the enemy's hair and put that on your wax man's head. Mr. Penfold read me bits out of a piece of poetry about it. Didn't he say it was wicked? Caroline asked. Yes, said Rupert reluctantly, but I know what's wicked without Mr. Penfold telling me, or you either. Just fancy how your enemy would squirm when he felt the pinpricks. They'd be like sword trusts, you know, to him. Don't, said Caroline. Don't, Rupert, it's horrid. Please don't. I don't want to know about those sort of spells. Rupert wouldn't do it, of course, said Charles. He's only talking. How do you know I wouldn't? said Rupert savagely. Next time you have a pain in your leg, Caroline, you'll think it's growing pains, but really it'll be me, sticking a long hat pin into the wax image I've secretly made of you. Caroline got up. Come, sure, she said. We'll go and sit in the drawing room if Rupert's going on like this. He doesn't mean it, said Charles again. Of course I don't, said Rupert, and suddenly smiled. I don't know why I said it. Don't be silly. There's lots of things you could try, though, and not hurt anyone. Why don't you? He looked vaguely round the room, and his eyes lighted once more on the portrait. Why don't you make that come to life? If she was a witch, her picture ought to be good for that anyhow. I wish we could, said all the children together with deep earnestness. Well, do it then, said Rupert. That's the sort of thing to make me believe, not the duffing things you've kept on doing ever since I've been here. There was a silence. Then, How do you spell impossible? asked Charles, and then nothing more was heard but the scratching of violet pens. But from that time, and in between all other thoughts and happenings, Charlotte kept on thinking about that idea, if only the picture could be made to come alive. And Charles's fancy played timidly with the idea of the wax man. Not to hurt the person it was like, of course, but just to see if anything happened, not pins, but just pinching its foot a very, very, very little, secretly, with the image in your pocket when the person it was the image of was there, just to see if the person jumped or called out as you do if you're suddenly pinched, no matter how gently. Charlotte's mind busied itself then and later, in and between other thoughts, with the question of what was the matter with Rupert, and whether something couldn't be done to help him. For there was no doubt of it. Rupert wasn't at all what they had first thought him. Sometimes it is true he would be as jolly as you need wish a boy to be. He would start new games and play them in the most amusing and satisfactory way. But always, sooner or later, and generally sooner, the light of life seemed to go out of him, and he would seem suddenly to be not only tired of the game, but tired of everything else, and not only tired of everything, but angry with everybody. I'm sure he's bewitched, said Charlotte more than once in those intimate moments when Caroline and she talked things over as they brushed their hair. I shouldn't wonder if somebody's made a wax image of him, and it's when they stick the pings in it that he goes all savage all in a minute. I do think that's nonsense, Caroline always said. I'm sure it wouldn't be allowed. How would you make an image of a person's mind? Charlotte woke Caroline up to ask one night, and when Caroline with sleepy sharpness said, You can't go to sleep, do? Charlotte answered, I believe you can. There was something written under somebody's portrait in history about painting his mind, and if you can paint a mind, you can make a wax image of it. I believe that's what somebody's done to Rupert, don't you? And stuck knives into it. Oh, well, if you will go to sleep, said Charlotte. Rupert grew grumpier and grumpier as the days went on, and seemed to care less and less for being with the three seas. He would go for long walks by himself, and seemed to prefer to be with William, who put up with him, or even with Mrs. Wilmington, who adored him to being with the children. And we thought it would be so jolly, sighed Charlotte. And the worst of it is, Charles tries to imitate him.  The only thing Rupert seemed truly and constantly to care for was swimming. He went down to the river with Mr. Penfold almost every day, or met him at the bathing place, and they swam together. With Mr. Penfold, Rupert was nearly always at his best, perhaps because Mr. Penfold never seemed to notice it when he wasn't. The village was growing more and more busy and excited, as the day drew near when Lord Andor's coming of age was to be celebrated by what the people called a grand gala and feat. This was to be held in Lord Andor's park, and in certain meadows adjoining. There were to be roundabouts and coconut shies and shooting galleries, and a real circus with a menagerie and performing elephants and educated seals, all free. The children looked forward longingly to the day. Lord Andor had sent them cards with his mother's name and his on them in print, and the name of each child in writing, requesting the pleasure of their company on the occasion of Lord Andor's twenty-first birthday. And they had joyously and with much violet ink accepted, and the day came nearer and nearer. It did not seem worthwhile to engage in any new magic while there was this real pleasure to look forward to. And then, the very day before the day, when the roundabouts had arrived and been set up, and the menagerie was howling invitingly in its appointed field, the cup of joy was dashed, as Charlotte said, into little bits. Lady Andor slipped on an orange pip and broke her ankle, and the festivities were postponed until September. So set a card brought by the very footman who had not known their names. He jolly well knows them now, said Charles. It was his only comfort. There's many a pip twix the cup and the lip, said Charlotte, and Caroline said, Oh, bother! Rupert said nothing. He had been invited to, of course, and had at moments seemed pleased. Now he just took his cap and went out and came home late for tea. The three seas learned with feelings of distress mingled with anger that Rupert had been to the menagerie by himself, and had seen all the beasts, and that he had also witnessed a performance of the circus people which they had thought it worthwhile to give to such of the villagers as cared to pay for their amusements. He had seen everything from the accomplished elephants to the educated seals. You might have told us you were going, said Charles. You could have gone if you'd wanted to, said Rupert. Never mind, Charles, said Caroline. We'll ask the uncle to take us tomorrow. There off tomorrow, said Rupert. That's why I went today. He added something bitter and almost unbearable about a parcel of kids. But the circus, as it turned out, was not off next day. An accident had happened. Something was missing and the circus could not go on its travels till that something was found. I don't know what it is, said Harriet, when she told them about it at breakfast. But they've lost something they set store by. Some says it's an improving seal, and others says it's a bore conjecture snake. And Poe told my gentleman friend it was the white-eyed caffer made a boat for freedom, and India's Carl strand where he was stole from when a babe. But I don't know the rights of it. They sent for Poe. My gentleman friend'll know all about it next time I see him. When shall you see him again? Charles asked. I can see him whenever I for mind, said Harriet proudly. I'm not one of those who's asked to run after their gentleman friends. I do wonder what it is, Charlotte said. Do see your friend as soon as you can at ask him, won't you Harriet? I do hope it's not snakes or bears. You'll be sure to tell us directly you know, won't you? Sure, said Harriet. It was from William, however, that they heard what it was that the circus had really lost. It's a time leopard, said William, in with the spots that you can't change and the long tail. I know, said Charlotte. There's a leopard's skin in the drawing room, very spotty they are, and fierce too, I believe. Oh, William, I do hope it won't come this way. There's something about it in the book, said Caroline, who as usual had her magic books under her arm. She found the place and read, Leopard's Bane, It's Government and Virtues, quite a long piece. When she had done, William said, Thank you very much, quite pretty, ain't it? And Rupert said it was all nonsense. But it won't come this way, will it? Charlotte repeated. It's a tame one, said William, grinning. At least that's the character it's got from its last place. But it won't be any too tame for pold, I expect. I hear he's got the job of catching of it, and serve him right too. Oh, why? asked Charlotte. Because, said William shortly, and was told not to be cross about nothing. Tame nothing, then, he said. Tossed the way he acted about my dog license, and the dog only two months over puppy age, when no license is taken nor yet asked. I don't fancy Pudd much myself, said Rupert. He needn't have been so keen about catching me. Now that's where you're wrong, said William. Hunting of you, that was no more than pold's duty. And if he's set about it like a jack-eight whilst some is born silly and can't help it, and why blame the man? But the dog, he warn't pold's duty. He exceeded about the dog pold did. And I don't bear malice, but I'll be even with him yet about that dog. How? asked Rupert. Oh, I'll find a way, said William carelessly. No hurry. Acts like that act what pold did about my pincher. They always come home to roost, them acts do. Now then, Miss Charlotte, leave that saddle soap alone and get along into the garden. The gates has been locked since eight this morning, and you're to go through the secret way today, and not to go outside the garden because of that old speckled leopard. The three seas went, but Rupert lingered beside William, fingering the bright buckles of the harness, and passing the smooth reins slowly through his fingers. For some time, the three seas were very busy in the garden, gathering heart-shaped green leaves and golden fragile daisy-like flowers. I never thought, said Caroline earnestly, opening the brown book and sitting down on the terrace steps with a sheaf of green and yellow beside her, that we should need it when I read about it in the language of and in the medicine book. Look here, it says, it is under Apollo, and the flowers and leaves thereof, all leopards and their kind do fear and abhor. Wherefore, if it be strewn in the paths these fearful beasts do frequent, they may not pass, but shall turn again and go each to his own place in all meekness and submission. Indeed, it hath been held by the ancients, I and by philosophers of our own times, that in this herb lieeth a charm to turn to water the hearts of these furious spotted great cats, and to loose the strings of their tongues, so that they speak in the speech of men uttering strange things and very wondrous. But of this the author cannot speak certainly, since the leopard is not native to this land, and lest it be in Northumberland and Wales, where all wild things might well be hidden. So you see, said Caroline. But Charlotte said it was all very well, only how were they to get the bane to the leopard? It isn't as if we were allowed free, she pointed out. I wish they hadn't been so careful, the leopard would never have hurt us as long as we carried the bane, and we could have surrounded it like snakes with ash leaves, and it would have had to surrender. And perhaps it would have talked to us and followed us like tame thorns, suggested Charlotte, or Euna, only hers was a lion. Nonsense, said Charles, you know you'd have been afraid. I shouldn't, said Charlotte. You would, said Charles. I shouldn't, you would. I shouldn't, you would. And now you're both exactly like Rupert, said Caroline, and the leopard, wandering about, unbained while you're wrangling. You're like Nero and Rome. Twenty minutes had passed before peace was restored, and the leopard's bane laid drooping in the sun, the delicate gold and green heaps of it growing flatter and flatter. Well, then, said Charles, suddenly, if you're not afraid, let's go. No one's forbidden us to, except William. I will, if you will, said Charlotte, turning red. So will I, said Caroline, turning pale. Rupert said it was nonsense about the leopard's bane when you read it this morning. That doesn't make it nonsense, said Charlotte sharply. But suppose you meet it. You can't, if you keep to the road. Leopards get into trees. They never walk about in roads like elephants do, not even when the circus man is moving. It's serious what we're going to do, said Caroline. And what will people say about it depends how it turns out. If we paralyze the leopard and save the village, we shall be heroines like and heroes, said Charles. Like Joan of Arc and Philippa, who sucked the poison out of the birdie's keys at Calais. And if we don't put the stuff in the right place, or the leopard doesn't take any notice of it, they'll just say we were disobedient. And suppose we meet the leopard face to face. It's a tame leopard, said Caroline in a faltering voice. Oh, I don't want to go. I really am frightened. I don't mind owning up. I am. I'm so frightened, I think we ought to go. I don't want to so dreadfully that I'm sure it's right for me to go. But I wish you and Charles would stay here. Suppose the leopard came over the wall and there was no one here to cope with it. She was very pale and she trembled, and when the others, without hesitation, said, Not much, we don't. She certainly breathed more easily. Come on, then, she said. We'll strew a little here because of the gardeners. Oh, no. Of course, the roots will make it all save here. The gates locked. We must go through the secret passage, and then creep through the stable yard and out along the garden wall so that the Wilmington doesn't see us, and then out by the deserted lodge. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbitt This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 18 The Leopard's Bane Their mines once made up, the children collected the fading armfuls of Leopard's Bane and made for the arbor that led to the tunnel. Inside the door they lighted the candle, closed and bolted the door as they had been told to, and went carefully down the steps and along the secret passage. And as they went, they heard something moving in the darkness that lay thick beyond the little wavering light of their candle. They stopped and listened. They heard the sound of breathing, and the next moment they saw vaguely in the almost darkness something forefooted, spotted, furry creeping along the passage towards them. It uttered a low, fierce, snarling growl. It done! said Caroline, casting her flowers from her. It can't pass it! It can't! A heap of tangled, crushed leaves and flowers was all that there was now between the children and the Leopard. It can't pass it! It can't! said Caroline again in an agonized whisper. Yet none of the children dared to turn and fly. Charlotte had remembered what she had heard of quelling wild animals by the power of the human eye, and was trying almost without knowing that she'd tried to meet the eye of this one. But she could not. It held its head down close to the ground and kept quite still. Everyone felt it was impossible to turn their backs on the creature, better to face it. If they turned and ran, well, the door at the end of the passage was bolted, and if the flower-spell should fail, then the moment their backs were turned, the Leopard might, with one spring— Oh, I wish we hadn't! said Charles, and burst into tears. Don't, oh, don't! said Caroline, and to the Leopard who had not moved, she said with wild courage. Down, sir! Lie down! The Leopard lay down flat. Flatter than you would think a Leopard could lie. It understands, said Charlotte. Oh, yes! Caroline's voice trembled as much as the hand that held the candlestick. It does! Poor pussy! Poor Leopard, then! A faint rumbling sound came from the crouching heap of spotted fur. I believe it's trying to purr, whispered Caroline. Of course, Leopard's purrs would be different. Give a paw, then! she said, very shakily. And the Leopard lifted a ragged-looking forefoot, but even Caroline had not the courage to reach out a hand towards it. Go to sleep, good dog, then! she said in a distracted whisper.  The Leopard curled up and lay quite still. It's all right, I tell you, said Caroline. Stop snivelling, Charles! I knew the Leopard's bane would do it. No, let's go back backwards, very slowly, and if it moves, I'll speak to it again. Very slowly, still striving to keep their eyes on the Leopard, they retreated. They had not gone three steps before they heard it move. They stopped. Lie down, said Caroline, and then, to their mingled horror, wonder, delight, surprise, dismay, and satisfaction, a voice answered them. A curious, choked husky voice. Leopard, stay still, it answered. Little lady not be frightened. Leopard like flowers. Leopard quite good. Is it, said Caroline, speaking as well as she could through the beating of her heart, is it the Leopard speaking? Yes, little Missy, said the choked voice. Pretty flowers, loose Leopard's tonguey, make him talky. Leopard tell a secret. Little lady's sow seeds, pinky seeds, hearty seeds, the right day, the right way, and see what come up. Run away now, Leopard done talky. He goes sleepy bye-bye, so long. None of them ever knew how they got to the end of the tunnel, got the boats undone, got the door shut again, and stood in the dusky arbor, looking in each other's paper-white faces. Charlotte made two steps into the sunlight, and threw herself face downwards on the path, her shoulders heaved. Charles was still weeping without moderation or concealment. Caroline stood shivering in the sunshine. But we've got to get back, she said. It's all right this side, because of the Leopard's Bane. But if somebody came behind the Leopard's Bane from the house, you know, we must climb the wall and get to the house and warn them. Get up, Charlotte. Charles, if you're ever going to be a man, be one now. There'll be plenty of time to howl when it's all over. We must climb the wall, somehow. One leaves the children in the garden, a locked door between them and the Leopard, trying to find a way of climbing a ten-foot wall. No gardener was to be found, and the gates were locked. We must get over, Caroline kept saying. Oh, we must! We must! The charm worked perfectly. If we can only get to the other end of the tunnel and throw in some more Bane, we shall have done the great deed. Try again, Charles. I'll give you a leg up. We must get over. Try again. One leaves Charles, trying. Now, although the three seas firmly believe that the magic of the green and yellow flowers subdued the Leopard and caused it to speak, in a sort of language that somehow recalled the far-off speech of their ire in India, I cannot quite expect you to believe this. And I feel that I must delay no longer to tell you what it is you can believe. To do this, we must go back to Rupert, whom we left with William in the harness room, fingering the bright buckles and drawing the long smooth reins through his fingers. I say, William, he said. Couldn't we play a little trick on that pod? There's a leopard skin in the drawing-room, if I got a couple of pillows and a needle and thread. I, said William, staring at him, then suddenly he smacked his leg and laughed aloud. You've hit it this time, Master Rupert! He said, bless if you haven't, you go along in and get the skin, careful now because of Mother Wilmington. The drawing-room's locked, said Rupert, and I don't want to tell the others. The drawing-room windows isn't, said William. We'll watch our time and I'll make a back for you. And never you mind about pillows, straws good enough stuffing, and don't forget the needle and cotton. I expect you'll find some ladies work in box in the drawing-room to get them out of. Rupert, once safely landed in the drawing-room, found the leopard skin easily enough, but the needle and cotton were not so easily found. He found a work table indeed made of satin wood inlaid with ivory and lined with faded red velvet, where were reels of silk and flat ivory winders with thread on them, but all the needles were red with rust and fast embedded in their cushions and cases. He looked round, none of the cabinets looked as though they held needles. And besides, what was the use of finding more rusty needles? One rusty needle was as useful or rather as useless as fifty could be. He thought of using the blind cords instead of cotton, but they were too thick, and one could not push them through the leopard skin without tearing it. Then he saw the golden, quiet harp standing in its far corner. Its strings, perhaps? But he did not know how to unstring a harp, and when he touched one of its fine wires, just the thing for sewing with without a needle, it gave out the thin, sweet ghost of a note of music, faint indeed, but loud enough to warn him of the cry it could and would give if he attempted violence. The harp quivered under his hands as he gently let the string go, and something rattled. It was the lid of a sort of box in the pedestal of the harp. Perhaps there kept spare strings there, Rupert thought, and opened the lid. They, it seemed, had kept spare strings here, and here the spare strings still lay coiled neatly in little round boxes. Rupert opened several, and choosing the thinner strings put them in his pocket. One box rattled dryly in his hand, and when he opened it there were no strings, only a number of odd, flat, pinkish, heart-shaped seeds. On the box was written, Seed of the F of H D, so only in the way and on the day. He put its lid on, and thought then no more of the box, but afterwards he remembered it. And now, with the leopard's skin in his arms and the wires in his pockets, Rupert went cautiously to the window. Yes, all was safe, so William's signal told him. He dropped the bright skin into William's hands, and himself dropped to the ground. I've thought of something better than straw, he said, when he and William and the leopard's skin were alone together in the harness room. And William, when the new thought was explained to him, slapped his leg harder and laughed more thoroughly than before. Rupert had only just entered the secret passage, his first match had just gone out, when he heard the children at the other end. He went towards them, fully meaning to explain what sort of leopard he was, and what sort of joke, he called it a joke to himself, he and William had arranged to play upon poad. But when he heard them speak, and saw the showers of leopard's bane fall on the flags of the passage, he, as he put it later, played up. And when the children had gone, he laughed softly to himself, and began to think what would be the best spot in the tunnel to wait for poading. He had noticed, by the light of that first match, an arched recess, the one, you remember, where the children stored their sacks of wet rose leaves the night they played at Rosicurean's and cured Rupert. He would hide in this, and then, when poad came along, he would jump out at him with that snarl, which had sounded so well when he met the children. He waited till the garden door was locked, and then felt for his matches. He could not find them. He must have dropped them when he was pretending to the children. He felt along the floor, but there were no matches to be found. Never mind, he could feel his way in the dark. He knew exactly where the arch was, to the left, about three-quarters of the way down the passage. He stood up, and laid his hand upon the wall, walked forward till he felt the corner of the recess, and stooped to curl himself up in it, and wait for poad. He put his hand out to steady himself as he sat down, and his hand touched not the stone floor, but soft, warm fur, and not dry hard fur, like that which he himself wore, sewn tightly round him with harp strings, but living fur on a living creature. He drew back his hand, and a cold sweat of horror broke out on his forehead, and the little hairs on the back of his neck seemed to move by themselves. His hand still felt the dreadful warm softness of that fur. It almost seemed to him that he had felt the spots on it. Oh, I wish I hadn't, said Rupert to himself, as so many of us have said when it was too late to say anything. Oh, I wish I hadn't! He stood perfectly still in the mockery of his sewn-on leopard skin, waiting for the real leopard to move or to settle down. Perhaps it would settle down. The leopard must have crept in when the door into the garden was opened in readiness for the children to pass through. It must have gone to sleep there, and perhaps he had not roused it. Oh, why didn't I go with the others, Rupert thought? And then a good thought came to him. If I had, he told himself, I should have been out there, and they wouldn't have met me and turned back. And then they might have found the real leopard, and it might have jumped on them. I'm glad it's only me. This good thought came to him as he rose up and steadied himself by the wall. Then in an instant all thoughts were drowned in a flood of terror, and Rupert found himself almost running, feeling his way by the wall towards the house entrance. If he could only get out before the leopard was up and after him, he reached the end of the passage, the door at the foot of the stairs was shut and locked. He was alone there in the dark, with a locked door at each end of the passage. He crouched down by the door. In spite of his agony of fear, he had enough sense not to beat on the door and scream for help, which was, of course, his first mad impulse. Keep quiet, he kept telling himself. Someone must come soon. If you keep quiet, the leopard will go on sleeping, perhaps. The children will open the garden door when they hear the dinner bell. Then you can get out. If you make a row, the leopard will wake up and come for you. So he crouched and waited. But no one came. Then suddenly he remembered, when the children heard the dinner bell, they would come down the passage. They would find the real leopard. It would certainly wake. His own feelings about the leopard now made him certain that the children, when they were safe in the sunshine, would see that what taught to them, dressed in a leopard's skin, could only have been a human being dressed up. Most likely they knew already who it was, so they would come back without fear, come back to find him, Rupert, and would find that. Then Rupert did what was really an heroic thing. He stood up, and as quickly as he could, began to feel his way back along the side of the passage farthest from the arched recess. He would go to the garden door, and when the children opened it, he could prevent there coming in. To do this, he must pass the leopard. A warm, delicious glow stole through him. This was worth it. Better than crouching like a coward at the far side and letting those children come laughing and talking down the passage to meet that savage from a sudden awakening. He took off his boots and crept quietly along. No sound broke the black silence. He reached the flight of steps, reached the other door, sat down on the top step, and waited. Nothing had stirred in the silence. Anyhow, said Rupert, I feel safer at the top of the stairs than at the bottom. Rupert will never know how long he sat there in the darkness. The cracks in the door which showed as pale vertical streaks were his only comfort. He tried to get off the leopard's skin, but the harp strings were too strong. It seemed to him that he had been there a week. There were voices, many voices, Charlotte's voice high above the others. Rupert hoped the leopard was too far away to hear, but how could he know where the leopard was? It might have crept quite close to him on its padded, noiseless feet, and he would never have known. It might be within a yard of him now. Rupert understood in that hour what sort of practical joke it was that he had prepared for the policeman. Because, of course, said Rupert, I should have been just as dreadful for Pod as that is for me. He'd have thought I was it. The voices and footsteps came nearer. They were talking outside. Best shoot it when it rushes out at us. I've got a revolver, said Pod, and a cold shiver round down Rupert's back. Suppose he had met Pod alone in that dark passage as he had planned? Let me get at him with the garden fork, said another voice, the gardener's. Then another, a strange voice this time. Don't hurt the beast. It's valuable, and it's tamed, aren't I tell you? You lay free. Stand back. I'll tackle him. Rupert wretchedly wondered how he was to be trapped. Also, how near the real leopard really was. He decided that a little noise more or less couldn't matter now. He tapped at the door and cried, Let me out. It's Rupert. But his words were drowned in the chorus of alarm that rose when he knocked at the door. And the leopard? In the midst of the babel of voices a boat was drawn. The door opened.  It's me. It's Rupert. He shouted.  The real leopard's inside. Why? said the leopard's owner. He who had thrown the net over Rupert. It's a beastly boy, dressed up. He spoke in tones of deep disgust. There was a crowd of people. The three seas had managed to scale the wall by means of a pear tree. They had brought back William, a prey to secret laughter, and the leopard's owner and a dozen other people. A score of hands helped to lose Rupert from the net. Oh, I don't know. I did it for a lock, to take a ride out of someone. But I've been paid out. The leopard's in there. I touched it in the dark. Sensation. There, said William to the policeman, I told you half an hour ago there was a good chance the beast had taken cover in the passage, and you would have it. You'd see his tail up a tree somewhere and wouldn't go down. I certainly thought I'd see his tail, said Poad, scratching his ear, and this gentleman's pal and half a dozen others is after him now down by the other lodge. But perhaps it wasn't really his tail. In fact, it couldn't be if the animal's in here, like what the young gentleman says it is. I tell you the leopard's in here now, said Rupert. Oh, get me out of this beastly skin, somebody. William unlaced him and he stepped out, a pale boy in shirt and knickerbockers. In there now, is he? said the leopard's keeper, rudely taking no notice of Poad. Then if someone'll get a lantern or two, we'll go in and get him. Someone got a lantern or two, it was William in point of fact, the lanterns happened to be ready in the summerhouse. The keeper went down the steps. On the right-hand side, he said, quite unconcernedly, and Rupert said, yes, to the right. William and three other men followed wearily, but to most of the party it seemed best to remain by the door. Five people and a net were surely enough to catch one leopard. But everyone crowded round the door and some even went down a few steps, bending over to catch the first sounds of anything that might be happening. All of a sudden, a sound came from the dark passage below and the listeners started back. A strange sound, the sound of long, loud laughter. It echoed and re-echoed through the vaulted passage, coming nearer and nearer. The crowd drew back. Out came the leopard keeper, laughing with his net. Out came William, laughing with his pitchfork. Out came Poad, half laughing and half angry. What is it? What is it? said everyone outside, and for a moment, none of those inside could get breath to answer. What is it? they asked again, and at last William answered. Mrs. Wellmington's old cat, gone in there to have her kittens in peace away from the children. They've caught your little bit all right, he said to the leopard keeper. Look! He pointed to something white among the trees beyond the wall. I told Bill to run up a signal if they found the rest of him where Poad said he'd seen his spotted tail. Did you know that, before we went in? Poad asked sternly. Course I did! said William, his hands on his knees and his ruddy face deeply creased with the joke. You wouldn't have caught me going in there without I'd known where my lord was, him and his spotted tail. I thought it was Master Rupert up to some more of his larks, I did. I wasn't a gonna spoil sport. You haven't heard the last of this, said Poad huffily. No more ain't you, said William, so don't you think it, James Poad? You that believed one tail when you'd seen the other. You that wouldn't believe the sworn evidence of your own eyes and a spotted tail. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbit This slip of ox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 19 F of H.D. You will hardly be able to believe that owing to the firmness of Uncle Charles' instructions that he was not to be disturbed on any pretense, the whole noisy affair of the two leopards passed entirely unnoticed by him. The three C's did not tell because they feared that Rupert's impersonation of the leopard might not be pleasing to the uncle. Mrs. Wilmington did not tell because Rupert was her great favorite. She mended the places where the harp strings had torn the leopard skin and put it back in its place and said nothing to anyone. William did not tell. He was a man who could keep a joke to himself was William. Poad did not tell because he never could be quite sure whether the laugh was on his side or on William's. And Rupert did not tell for reasons that will be clearer later on. So the uncle went on writing his book about sympathetic magic in complete ignorance of anything leopardish having happened. When all the fuss and bustle had died down and Rupert and the children were left face to face, words of reproach rose to every lip. But Rupert, knowing what he had faced in that underground passage for the sake of the children, still had enough of the warm and comforting feeling to be able to say, Look here, don't. I'm awfully sorry if I did really frighten you. I didn't know. I'd no idea what it would feel like to be frightened by a leopard until I thought I was shut up with one. Don't rub it in. There's good chaps. A frank appeal such as this could not fail with the three Cs. And if anything had been needed to melt the anger of the girls, being called good chaps would have supplied that need. Oh, yes, they said both together. But do let's tell each other all about it, Charlotte added. Let's not say anything till after dinner and then have a grand palaver in the garden. I do want to understand just exactly what you felt when you felt the leopard Rupert, to see if it was anything like what we felt when we saw your spots. All right, said Rupert. And Charles said it was the most dreadful thing in the world, but it will give us something to talk about. It did. Rupert's hidden consciousness of having done something rather decent made him quite like the self that he had seemed to be on the first night. The children spent a most enjoyable afternoon. And for the first time for many days Rupert did not seem anxious to get rid of the others. He even invited them to come down to the river and see him dive. Though I'm not a patron, Mr. Penfold, he said. They went and Charles had his first swimming lesson. It would be all right, he said, sleeking his wet hair as they went home. If only you could remember which are your arms and which are your legs. I never can in the water. And anyhow, you seem to have far too many, and they all feel as though they belong to somebody else. As they went over the bridge, Mr. Penfold said, I've done that translation, and I've had it typed. So you can tell your uncle about it and present it to him. He'll like it awfully, I know. And I dare say he'll let you have a copy of the translation. I've had one done expressly for you, with the parts that wouldn't be of any advantage to you left out. By the way, there's something written in the end about the seventh of July. That's tomorrow, so you'd better present it then. There was a chorus of thanks, and the presentation was arranged for the next day. The children took the old Latin book home with them. Mr. Penfold was to bring the translation. When I've corrected the spelling and the stops, he said, I'll come, if I may, and see the presentation. There should be flowers, too, I think. Symbolic flowers suggested by your other book. When the children got home, they spread the Latin book on the table in the window to catch the last rosy sunset light, and Charles said with proud affection, Now, Rupert, we don't want any old translation when you're here. Rupert frowned, and the girls shrank, as sensitive plants shrink when a finger touches them. They knew the sort of bitter thing about its not being worthwhile to do things for kids, which seemed to be trembling on Rupert's lips. But quite quickly his face changed. He turned red, or was it only the deepened red of the sunset, and said, You know, I'm afraid I've kidded you rather about my Latin. I'm not very good at it, as a matter of fact. I've only just begun Virgil. But you do know a lot. You're always saying bits of it, said Charles anxiously. That was swank, said Rupert strongly. Silly swank. It was all wrong, I expect. There, nights out. The children treated Rupert with added respect. How splendid of him to own up about the Latin, said Caroline over the hairbrushing. And Charlotte reminded her sister that she had always thought Rupert splendid, which was not true, though she thought it was. But this was later. At the moment. Never mind, said Charlotte. We shall have the translation tomorrow, and we'll try a spell at once. I'm sorry the leopard that spoke was only you, Rupert. We did think you'd have to believe in spells after that. There's something written at the end, said Caroline, who was still examining the book. I'd forgotten about that. And there was, in very faint brown ink, they had to carry it quite outside the front door, which was, as you know, at the side, to get light enough to be sure that they could not read it because it was written in Latin. And when they did get enough light, they saw that it was in English and that they could. The writing ran, on the seventh day of the seventh month, and at the seventh hour, let the seed be sown. Seven seeds and no more for the one sowing. In the garden of peace let them be sown, which same is the seventh garden of the world. Let him that would sow, take heed to bathe him seven times in fair water, and let him sow with his face set eastward, with silence at the lips, and at the heart faith in all good things, and the love of all things beautiful. After seven weeks the blossom shall appear. Then let him who sowed the seed eat of the flower. The seed of the F of HD. What! cried Rupert. That's all, said Caroline. It stopped short like that. There isn't any more. There had been more, but someone had scratched the rest out. With a knife or scissors, explained Caroline.  I say, Rupert was beginning, but Charles interrupted. He had stooped to look up under the page that Caroline was fingering. There's some more. Look, turn over. There was. Until it be granted, none knoweth his heart's most dear desire. But after it is granted, he perceiveth that so and not otherwise was, and must ever have been, the true desire of the heart. That's true at any rate, said Charlotte. I was just wondering what my heart's desire really was. Suppose you thought it was going to be a new paint box, but the flower knew better, and it turned out that elephants was what you really wanted. No, but I say, said Rupert hurriedly. Look here. You know I don't believe in magic. I'd like to, really I would. But I found something. You've got the key of the drawing room. I believe I know where those seeds are. The drawing room was almost dark when they got there. Just one last ray of dusky gold lay across the room. It struck the round mirror and was reflected with dazzling brightness on some golden object at the end of the room. The harp, whispered Rupert, how queer, because it was exactly there. It was still exactly there, and everyone was quite sure that this little round box held the seeds of which the book told. See, said Charlotte, holding them in the ray of yellow light, they're shaped like hearts and they're pink like wishes. I know wishes are pink. They must be some color, and why not that? But what we to take them was the blighting question of Caroline. It was settled by a note which Harriet blightingly carried to the uncle. Dearest uncle, there are some pinky seeds in the drawing room. May we have seven to sew? And the answer was, certainly, seventy if you like. Your DSTU. So very early next morning they got up. Bazing seven times is no joke, especially when you dry thoroughly between and this Caroline conscientiously insisted on. We must be quite sure we get it quite right, she said. The four children met by appointment at the top of the stairs and crapped down in silence. They went out by the French window which had once admitted Rupert. When they were outside he said, I bathed seven times too, because Charles did nothing but bother. But it's no good my sewing the things, even if it's all true, because I haven't faith in my heart or my head either. I think really it's the head's fault. Oh, never mind your head, said Charlotte. We'll all sew one each, and the three over we'll put in all together, all of us. The grass was still dewy wet, but the gardener was at work in the wonderful garden. The children went through the ancient formula of Ena Dina Dina Dus to decide who should approach him, and the lot fell on Charlotte. Please, she said, may we have a bit of garden for our own? I, said the gardener, pointing to a vacant plot near the arbor. Oh, thank you, said Charlotte, but meant we have a bit in the garden of peace. All learned you to call it that, the gardener asked, looking at her strangely. It's the right name, isn't it? Charlotte asked with sudden anxiety. It's the right name, right enough, he admitted. We want a bit that won't be disturbed for seven weeks, Charlotte explained, and he looked at her more strangely than ever. Sure you've got the right seed to sow? Charlotte opened her hand, and he stooped and looked at it. Then he stood up and saluted like a soldier. Why, said Charlotte, you, what do you mean? Nothing, he said, straightening his back. Only I worked here all my days, and my father are for me, and his father are for him, and so on back. You can see our names on the stones in the churchyard, same as you see master's people's names on the tombs inside of the church. I'll find a corner for you, my dear, and no one shan't disturb the seed once you've set it. You know how it's done. No chatter, and which way to look. Yes, I know, said Charlotte, but how do you know? Old man's tales, he said, old man's tales, and led the way to the terrace. Would you like to say one of them? said Charlotte, eagerly. I know the others went mind if you would, would you? Not me, my dear, said the old man, and his side. Years are gone, I don't say, but not now. I'm old, you see. I ain't got no heart's desires nowadays, except what I'll get in the way of nature and in the Lord's good time. You go along and set your seeds. I'm glad I seen them, though. Over yonder, between the lupins and the larkspurs, that'll be your plot, and I'll mark the place. Charlotte, very much impressed, beckoned the others. In silence they sowed the seed. The gardener watched them, and when they had planted the seeds and covered them over, he took a pencil and a painted slip-label from his pocket, wrote on it, and stuck it in the ground. The children stooped to read what he had written. F of H.D., it said, said Caroline. Least said, soness mended, said the gardener. I shouldn't wonder if seed-leaves was to break ground in seven days. It was, Alice, a wonderful garden this was. He said, and turned to his work, said Charlotte again, and they went back through the dewy park. After breakfast, the language of flowers was earnestly consulted. It's no use going on thinking and talking about the F of H.D., said Caroline, when they had talked of nothing else for an hour and a half. What we've got to do now is to find the right flowers for the presentation. An hour's earnest study of Miss Peckett's invaluable present yielded an interesting list. Learning had apparently no floral emblem, so blue salvia, which means wisdom, was chosen to represent it. It was felt that on an occasion of this sort, it was impossible to have too much of a good thing, so twelve flowers were chosen, and all but one, an outsider called Cercia, which means a spell of which the gardener had never heard, were found in the wonderful garden. Rupert prevailed on Mrs. Wilmington to open the drawing-room on the ground that the clergyman was coming to tea, and she even agreed to allow the floral tributes to be arranged on a large table in that hallowed sanctuary, only insisting that a linen drugit should be laid done before so much as a blade of grass was carried in. The drugit, white with many a washing, only seemed to add to the festival air, which the drawing-room soon began to put on. Talk of magic, said Charlotte. What is it if it's not that with Mrs. Wilmington? Rupert can drive her with a rain of darning cotton. Mrs. Wilmington had indeed consented to do the vases on the mantelpiece and cabinets. Rather than have you children smashing everything to atoms, she said, and even at Rupert's request had agreed to put only the flowers he handed to her. There was shabby a lot, she said. It was never my lot to behold, more like a parcel of weeds, I should say. The selected flowers were certainly none too showy, and the drawing-room decorations might, perhaps, have in the end looked what Mrs. Wilmington called mean-gee, if Charlotte had not suddenly remembered that the rose, as the flower of secrecy, was entitled to be present in, as she said, the richest profusion. The large table was covered with loose pink rose-leaves. That was Caroline's idea. Yes, she said, I know what it will remind them of, but reminding doesn't matter when all's forgotten and forgiven, and look how soft and fluffy they look, like pink fur. This also reminded one of things, but no one said anything, though everyone tried so hard not to look at the leopard's skin that they might just as well have been staring at it. How pretty the flowers look, reflected in the looking-glasses, said Caroline tactfully, and Charlotte, with less tact but equal goodwill, moved an embroidered stool between Rupert and the leopard's spotted hide. Tea was a meal of masked excitement, of giggling scarcely suppressed by the children, and of a careful air of there being nothing particular in the wind, on the part of Uncle Charles and Mr. Penfold. When the last cup had been emptied, the last piece of cake reduced to crumbs and memory, Charles was at last allowed to say the words which had been arranged for him to say, and which, all through the meal, he had been bursting to repeat. Please, Uncle, there is a meeting of the Society of the Secret Rose in the drawing-room, and the Rosicureans have got a present for you. A presentation, corrected Charlotte. A presentation, and will you please come and be presented? It's all wrong, said Charlotte, who had composed a speech for him, and had the natural vanity of an author. But everyone was getting out of their chairs, and in the noise they made, nobody heard her. The drawing-room certainly looked, as Harriet had said when she peeked into it before tea, a fair treat. With its white-spread floor, its vases and jugs and jars of roses, its rose-leaf-covered table, edged with the twelve symbolic flowers in jampots, white and elegantly small, and all the splendour of afternoon sunshine, real and reflected. The Uncle looked at the room over his glasses, just as though he had never seen it before. Beautiful, he said, very beautiful. Charlotte took him by the hand and said, Dear Uncle, this time we make you a presentation, and it's not to get anything out of you, but just to show what we think of you. Caroline will read you what we've written, like addresses to mares, you know. We hadn't time to illuminate it today, but we will afterwards, if you like. And when she has read it, we will give you the real presentation. It is under the basin in the middle, but you mustn't look at it till we say. She stopped. The others looked at her meaningly. I can't help it, she said, flushing. I've forgotten the words. Uncle saying beautiful put it out of my head, but it means the same as the words I settled to say, and Charles didn't remember his either. Your address was exactly what all addresses should be, said the Uncle, short and to the point. I pledge my honour to respect the secret of the basin until I am permitted to approach it. The basin was a great bowl of blue and white china that, reversed, occupied the middle of the table. On it lay a full-blown rose and two buds. Caroline unfolded a large sheet of paper of the size called demae, and the kind which is used to bake cakes on, line boxes with, and drain fried fish on. Caroline had begged it from the cook, and there was a good deal of violet ink on it. Said Caroline, turning the large pages. Oh yes, it begins here. To the noblest of known uncles, Charlotte, Charles and Caroline, present their compliments and thanks. We have called in your wonderful garden the blossoms we think express all the things we want to say. These dainty floral pets. Can you tell which part of this address came out of the language of flowers, and which was Caroline's own invention? These dainty floral pets represent the most delicate and appropriate sentiments, and offered to the beloved object cannot fail to convey the deepest secrets of the enamoured heart.  The flowers are, she pointed to the first part on the left, branch of currents, it means you please us all because you do. Next pot, yellow acacia, we only got leaves, because it flowers a different time, but it means secret love. Our uncle is in a secret society with us, and we love him being in it. Clematis indicates that beauty of the mind, without which the fairest bodily endowments are but fleeting shows. Uncle is clever, so we got Clematis. And white pinks mean talents, so we got them. Sorrel we got, partly because it means affection, and partly because it is pretty and there is lot of it. And plain tree looks now, but in reality it indicates to the discerning recipient that the giver considers himself privileged to offer the tribute of its agreeable foliage to the hands of genius. That means the uncle because he writes books, Pythagoras says a lot about plain trees. Laurel needs no words to inform the reader of its meaning, it is too well known as the ornament of the foreheads of the great, it also signifies success, and we hope your book will be a great success. Red clover means industry, because uncle works so hard every day, and not to be disturbed on any pretense. And nightshade, whose dark leaves and mysterious purple blossoms denote witchcraft and magic. We have mixed roses with that because they mean love, and uncle loves witchcraft, so do we. And so we have put the double daisy. This innocent little flower in its double state has, humble as it is, a deep meaning to the student of the language of our floral darlings. It signifies I share your sentiments. So we put it last, because we share uncles about magic and things, and we hope he will share ours about the presentation when he sees it, that's all, said Caroline, very much out of breath. Here, here, said Mr. Penfold, and the uncle said, thank you, thank you very much. The most learned and delightful address I have ever listened to. And the flowers are beautiful in themselves, as well as in their symbolism. We're so glad you like it, said Charles, but wait till you see the presentation. He may look now, Manticara. Lift up the basin, said Charlotte. Be careful not to drop it, uncle, it's awfully heavy. Uncle Charles raised the great bowl in his hands and set it down among the rose leaves. Under it was a white cloth covering something, and on the cloth another red rose, full blown, and two buds. This is the real inside heart of the presentation, said Caroline. Don't look for a minute. We've found them inside Pope Zilead and Thessalonians, and we're almost sure they are, and we hope you'll be pleased. I can hardly believe that I could be more pleased than I am already, said the grateful uncle, and with that he lifted the white cloth, one of Caroline's best handkerchiefs, and laid bare the books. There was a breathless silence. The uncle lifted the books and looked at them. You know, he said presently in almost a broken voice, I believe they are. I am almost sure they are. Then he said nothing for a minute, and then, thank you, he said, thank you, and opened the book again. It'll make all the difference, he said to Mr Penfold, absolutely all the difference. We found them, Charles was beginning, when Mr Penfold made him a sign to be silent, and made another sign towards the door. Then he led the way from the room. The children followed, and when they were all out, he closed the door softly. When people are very happy, or very unhappy, they like to be left to learn. I think that just now your uncle is very happy. How glorious, said Caroline. So am I, said Mr Penfold. An angel in human form, called Mr James Hodgkinson, has sent me five pounds towards restoring the church. I have blued the lot on tiles for the roof of the porch. If you like to come down, you can help put them on. Like to? There was the enthusiastic answer of the three seas. Rupert did not answer, and when they looked round to see why he did not answer, they saw that it was because he was not there. End of chapter 19. Chapter 20 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbitt. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 20 The Waxman You know what Rupert was saying that day, said Charles one day, when Rupert as usual was down at Mr Penfold's. About doing something real with our magic. Like making her come alive, said Charlotte, looking up at the picture of Dame Eleanor. No, like making wax images of people and sticking pins in them. I should like to do that. I feel as if the language of was bussed up somehow. Oh, don't say that, said Caroline pinned. Well, not for always, perhaps, said Charles kindly. But we did give the uncle such a tremendous blowout for his presentation, and we did the leopard, and we sewed the F of HD, and anything else seems rather piffling after that. I wish we could make a wax image of someone. Not to stick pins in, said Caroline firmly. That would be ink black magic, I'm certain, and very, very wrong and unkind besides. No pins, I don't mean, said Charles, but just make one. We could decide what to stick into it after we'd made it. Caro and I wouldn't agree to sticking anything into it, said Charlotte. And anyhow, you haven't got any wax? Yes, I have, said Charles triumphantly. So there, I've been saving it up ever since you said that. Where from? Asked the girls together. They're sticking out bits of candles, said Charles, and one or two ends out of candlesticks in the morning when they're put on the boot shelf in the scullery to be cleaned. It's a good big lump now. Shall I get it? It would be fun to model something, Caroline admitted, and Charles, falling flat on his front, felt behind the big books on the bottom shelf and produced a large ball of a grey, semi-transparent nature. Here it is, he said. Now, I'll tell you what I've thought. Only don't tell Rupert. We'll do it first and tell Rupert afterwards, and then he'll have to believe. Well, what is it? We'll make, said Charles, slowly and seriously, a wax image of the Murdstone man, and we'll make him hollow. His legs and arms needn't be nor his head but just his chest, and make his heart separate and put it in, and take out his heart and melt it every day. That would soften his heart, and he would say he was sorry, and Rupert would forgive him. When hollow hearts shall wear a mask, said Charlotte, that's only song nonsense.  Well then, don't let's make him hollow. Let's make him solid and then think what to do. I know, said Charlotte, but if he's a pig, he's a pig, however solid you make him. What's bread in the bone will come out in the wash, and if we're not to stick pins in him, what's the good? Oh, said Caroline, I think I know. Look here, we'll make the wax image and then be kind to it. You can tame wild beasts with kindness. It kills cats, said Charlotte. No, it was care killed the cat, Caroline reminded her, and anyway, this won't be a cat, even if it did. We'll think of nice things to do to it. Let's make it now. Bags eye, said Charles hastily. It was my idea, and I collected the wax. Like an old bee, said Charlotte. All right, fire ahead. Charles had been warming the wax between his hands, and now, hardly waiting for Caroline to fetch and spread a newspaper, he began to divide the wax into six pieces. One head, two arms, two legs, one body, he explained. The girls watched with breathless interest.  The remaining four he rolled lengthwise till they were like thick tobacco pipes. Then he stuck the four pipey bits and the round marble onto the fivesball, and held the whole thing out triumphantly. I think it's awfully like, he said, especially the right arm that he hit Rupert with. I should like to stick just one pin in that. You mustn't, said Caroline. Yes, it's awfully nice, but it hasn't any clothes. I know statues of Greek heroes don't have any clothes, but he's not a Greek hero, and nowadays people have to have clothes even in their statues. Look at Mr Gladstone, and it would be more like real if it had a nose and ears, wouldn't it? I say, said Charlotte, let's get bits of bent twigs and pretend they're him, and then make wax clothes. Do let us help, Charles. It does look so interesting to do. You shall do the first kind thing for him if you'll let us help make him. I think he's all right, said Charles, looking at the blobby thing he had made, which was more like an imperfect octopus than a man. But if you promised me to do the first thing, I don't mind. Righto, I'll get the sticks. When the sticks had been found, the three children began to model parts of the Mirdstone man, but Caroline and Charles soon stopped and were content to watch Charlotte. She really seemed to know what she was about, which the others felt could not be said of them. She chose suitable twigs, fastened them together with bits of wax, and then began to clothe them with wax. She produced an arrangement not at all unlike a jacket and waistcoat. The trousers were a failure. The most accomplished sculptors have admitted that trousers are difficult to treat artistically, but they remembered that last time they had seen him the Mirdstone man had worn knickerbockers, and in these, revealing the shape of the stocking human leg, Charlotte was considered to have surpassed herself. The head was very difficult, but even this was managed, the hair question being settled by a large flat cap with a peak. The new model had a nose and mouth, ears large but still ears, and hands each with four fingers and a thumb. And when Charlotte rolled up the tiniest bits of wax, flattened them and stuck them on the coat and waistcoat for buttons, Caroline shouted, Bravo! You're as good as Praxi, what's his name? And even Charles said it wasn't half bad. Now, said Charlotte, the first nice thing to do for him is to put him in a bed of rose leaves. That's what they say when they mean a life without a sorrow or care. And then burn incense. We can make the incense out of the proper flowers, Caroline said. Rose leaves are dull, Charles said, and perhaps the Mirdstone man doesn't like incense. The real one meant, this one's got to like what we want it to like, said Charlotte. We made him and we know what he's got to like. Then we might make it so that he'd like having pins stuck into him, Charles suggested, hopefully. We might, only we shouldn't be so silly. Come on, bring the language off and the Mirdstone man. I'll get a box and Carol can get the rose leaves.  A cardboard box that had held Charlotte's best shoes was filled with sweet pink petals, and the wax and image put in it. It looked better standing up, but you don't stand up in a bed, even of rose leaves. A sort of pedestal was built of old bricks brought with some toil from the ruins of the deserted lodge's pigsty. A flat stone, which took all three to lift, was placed on top, and on this the box. But the box, which said, smarm and simple hygienic footwear in blue letters outside, troubled the girls because it was ugly, and Charles because it was untruthful. Whatever he is, he isn't footwear, said Charles. We could make it true by trampling on him, but you won't agree to that. No, said Caroline. But look here. Let's paste a bit of my green sash on it, and then put moss round. That'll make it more woodland-like. Cook provided the paste, and Caroline cut the sash. She pasted wetted the first piece of silk, so that it came out in wet spots, very messy-looking, as Charles did not fail to point out. Never mind, said Caroline. I'll cut another bit. It's much too long, and use less paste. More paste, less speed, said Charlotte. I'll cut mine, then there'll be a like, just as they were before. This time the box certainly looked very rich, and the moss round it looked very fresh and beautiful. A smaller pile of bricks supported the lid of a cocoa tin for incense. The language of flowers, hurriedly consulted, informed them that jasmine stood for amiability, st. John's wort for animosity, Indian pink for aversion, the pimpenel for change, sage for esteem, and the hazel for reconciliation. Further, that the tamarisk stood for crime, and the potato for benevolence. All these were found in the wonderful garden, except the potato, and none of the children knew what a potato looks like when it is growing, and they did not like to ask anyone for fear they, in turn, should be asked what they wanted it for. Never mind, said Charles. We can save one from dinner. I don't suppose it will matter. It's being cooked. That the potatoes that day should happen to be mashed seemed to all a mishap, yet not a calamity. A quantity deemed sufficient to influence Mr. Murdstone through his wax and image was secreted in the envelope of a letter from Aunt Emily, and not more than an eighth of the potato escaped into Charles' pocket through the square hole where the Italian stamp had been cut out for his collection. We'll arrange the things we want him to be round the box, said Caroline, and the things we want him not to be will burn and call it incense. Charles owned that he had been wondering what sort of incense you could make out of mashed potato.  Their silk wasn't wanted, really, said Charles. The hygienic boots would never have shown through the flies. But the girls agreed that it was nice to know it was there. The mashed potato and the rather faded pimpinel were carefully concealed under the more attractive offerings. It looks fine, Charles said, and what he said they all thought. It is very hard to make small pieces of green things burn in a cocoa tin lid in the open air by means of a box of matches and the fragments of a potato-dampened envelope from an aunt in Italy. Nothing much happened except smoke, and the head of a match burnt Charles' finger. There's no more paper, said he. Except the bit we've written his name on. There's the matchbox, said Caroline. Let's make a little bonfire with twigs, and then put the incense things on when it's burnt up. This they did, and the starry gold of St. John's wort, the gay brightness of Indian pinks, and the feathery greenness of the tamarisks twisted and writhed amid flames and smoke. Now we'll leave it. Please, Mirdstone Man, let your crimes and your animosity and your aversion be burned away, and may you lie on beds of roses really, as soon as you are changed and amiable. Then when you are truly benevolent, Rupert and us will esteem you, and the hazelies for reconciliation. Now let's go away and leave the incense to do its healing work, and to-morrow we'll come and put a fresh rose-bed and burn new incense. Thus, Caroline. The others agreed, and after having put on the box the label with the Mirdstone Man's name, so that destiny could not pretend to make any mistake as to who the witchcraft was meant for. They went away through green covets in Indian file to build a wigwam in another part of the wood with three hot poles, three red blankets, and their three macintoshes. I hope Rupert won't ask a lot of questions about what we've been doing today, said Charles. But Rupert did not ask any. He came home singularly silent and went to bed early, announcing that he was going to spend the following day also with Mr Penfold. So he needn't tell him, said Charlotte, till the good work is done. I'm glad of that. Next day, with a fresh armful of suitable flowers and some more potatoes, fried this time and bearing heavy traces of their close intimacy with the breakfast bacon, the children sought the secret spot where they had laid the wax and image of Mr Mirdstone on its bed of roses. The ashes of the incense bonfire were there. The pedestal was there. The green covered box was there, half filled with half faded rose leaves. But the wax and image was gone. He must have fetched it away himself, said Charlotte, breaking an awestruck pause. He must have felt what we were doing and made up his mind to be benevolent, and he fetched it away so that we shouldn't waste any more good potatoes on him. I wish he'd do something to show that he's changed into a real good, and what sort of good he's changed into, said Charles. And it certainly is tiresome to work magic and then not to know exactly how it has acted. That their magic had acted, the children were, of course, quite certain. They had done magic too many times, as you know, to entertain a moment's doubt as to whether their spells were going to work or not. And the fact that the spell they had worked was not worked exactly, as the book said, did not trouble them. For, as Caroline said, if you can do harm to wax people, you can do good to them. More really, I should think, because one's wrong and the other's right. But it was a rather disappointed party that took its way through the Greenwood, leaving the secret spot with its trampled flowers and scattered ashes. They came across their wigwam and spent the rest of the morning there, and when the dinnerbell rang, loaded themselves with the macintoshes and blankets which had been forgotten yesterday. As they trailed out of the wood into the drive, Charles, who was first, dropped his blanket and stopped short, blocking the view of the others who were following him down the narrow path. What is it? They asked. Shish, said Charles, and backed into the hazel bushes, and the girls pressed forward to see what there was to shish about. Then they, in turn, backed into the green covert, and the bushes closed over them as they stood there holding their breath, as footsteps went by them along the drive. When the footsteps had passed far enough away for the children to dare to move, they backed with one consent into the wood, not stopping till they came to an open glade where they could comfortably look at each other and exclaim, Well! They were past all other words. For what they had seen was Rupert coming up the drive, looking pale but not unhappy.  It was Caroline who said it. The others still had not breath enough for more than rather. End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbitt This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 21 The Atonement of Rupert Do wonder what has happened, Charlotte whispered. I suppose the Murdstone Man was coming to tell Rupert he had been spell-changed into being nice now, and he must have met Rupert on the way. But he could have said that in the road and then gone home. There must be some reason for his coming home with Rupert. He can't, said Charles, hopefully, be going to tell us that he's changed. That would be ripping. I expect his telling the uncle, said Caroline. When the wicked magician takes off his spell and the wicked prince turns good, he always tells everybody at once. Then he'll come and tell us, said Charles. We're part of everybody, the same as grown-up people are. The three seas had come slowly back to the house, and seeing no sign of Rupert and the changed Murdstone Man had, with great tact, chiefly, Caroline's, refrained from going in search of Rupert or of information. They had just shut themselves into the dining-room and waited, for it was quite plain that something more must happen. The once hated Murdstone Man could not just come to the house and go away again, and the matter end there. But waiting is tiresome work, however proud you may be feeling of your tact and delicacy, and you are so interested and anxious that it is idle even to pretend to read. The three seas were very glad indeed when at last they heard footsteps in the hall and voices. Now, said Caroline, now they're coming. We'll be most awfully nice to him, won't we? Now he's sorry and he's owned up. Of course, said Charles. Do you think I could ask him to let me have the wax image of him to keep in memorial? No, said Caroline. Of course you couldn't. Hush! For goodness sake, hush! But there seemed to be no urgent need for hushing. The footsteps and the voices went past the dining-room towards the front door, which was at the side, as you know. No one listened, yet no one could help hearing, through the open window, the parting words of Rupert and the Murdstone Man. I'll do it now. That'll be the last. Thank you, sir. Goodbye. Then came the sound of retreating boots on gravel. The front door banged, and next moment Rupert came in. His eyes were very bright and his face very pale. He came in, shut the door, leaned against it, and seemed to swallow nothing twice. Then he said, looking straight in front of him, and Charlotte noticed that his hands were clenched. Look here, I've got something to tell you. I don't suppose you'll want to speak to me again after it. Yes, we shall! said Charles, whatever it is. Rupert took no notice. He went on after a moment's silence. I told a lie about Mr. MacPherson, a beastly lie. He didn't hit me like I said he did. I didn't mean to say it, I just said it, and then I couldn't take it back. I've been most awfully wretched. That's all. But you've owned up now. Was the only comforting thing even Caroline could think of in that terrible moment. Charles, as pale as Rupert, with his eyes quite round, said, You couldn't have! Charlotte said nothing. I'd like you to understand, said Rupert miserably. Before I go away. Way! said Charlotte quite as miserably. Where? Back to Mr. MacPherson, of course. Your uncle won't keep me after this. Did he say so? No. He said I was to come back to him when I'd taken Mr. MacPherson to the door. But I feel I must tell you first in case he sends me off right away. Oh, Rupert, said Caroline. I am so sorry. And then she did something rather heroic. She saw that Rupert wanted to say more, wanted it desperately, and that he could not possibly say it to all three of them together, though he could have told it to one of them, either to her or to Charlotte, if they had been alone. So Caroline got up and said, Charles, come outside. I want to say something. And when she got him outside the door, come out, she said earnestly. Yes, you shall. Rupert doesn't want a lot of us. Let him talk to Charlotte. He can't stand a crowd. Isn't it dreadful? said Charles in very shocked turns.  Oh, don't! said Caroline hotly.  We've got to try and forget about it. Let's talk about something else. But it was very difficult to talk about something else. Rupert, left with Charlotte, saw the others go past the window. I wanted to tell you before, he said. That day when you talked about being disagreeable, only I couldn't. Dear old Rupert, said Charlotte, I'm so jolly glad you've got rid of it. That was the black dog. I knew there was something. Do tell me, old chap, unless you'd rather not. The others are off down the avenue. Rupert left the door and came to the table, and half sitting on it with his face turned away and twisting the tablecloth into pleats. He said, You know, I always thought I was going to be an extra honorable sort of chap. Father used to say things. I never did anything like it before. You see, I was awfully sick at having to go with Mr. McPherson at all. He treated me as if I was a baby. At least that's what I thought. He says now he meant to be kind, and he thought I was younger than I am, and the bread and milk. Everything else I told you was true, except hitting me. And he did say there were ways of dealing with sulky boys, and I decided I would run away. And I hurt my hand on the gate, and I was so angry it seemed the only thing to do. I know, said Charlotte. And then, when I was explaining to you, somehow I couldn't find the proper words to explain how hateful it was, and I thought you'd think I'd run away just for nothing. And then my hand hurt, and I thought you thought something more ought to have happened, and then I said that. Mean beast. I do wish you hadn't, said Charlotte. It didn't seem to matter just at first. I can't think why. I thought he meant to hit me next day, and anyhow you didn't know him. And then I got ill and nothing mattered. But when I got better, it kept on getting worse and worse and worse, like a corkscrew, worming into you harder and harder and harder all the time. But why didn't you own up before? Charlotte asked. I couldn't. I never should have if it hadn't been for this. He pulled his handkerchief with some difficulty from his pocket. Something was wrapped in it. Rupert, his face still turned away, unfolded and held out the waxen man. I came back through the woods yesterday, and then I saw you'd been trying that beastly spell I told you with the pins. Oh, said Charlotte, and I knew it was because I'd told that beastly lie. It wasn't, said Charlotte. We did everything nice for him, to make him sorry he was hateful and to make him friends with you, and O'Rupert the spell did work. We did it to make him friends with you, and he is. He's been jolly decent about it anyhow. Said Rupert. I found the waxing as I came home from Mr Penfold's last night, and I took it away and put it at the back of my collar-draw, and this morning I took it down to Mr Penfold's. It made it easier to tell somehow, and he was jolly decent too. He took me over to Tundridge to tell Mr MacPherson, and he said a lot of things. He said he'd known all along I'd got something I wanted to get off my chest, and he said things about repentance and things. I do like him. Glad we made the image, said Charlotte, because it seemed unkind to say nothing, and she could think of nothing else to say. And I'm going to stick it whatever it is. Mr MacPherson is all right, but it will be hateful leaving here. Only I suppose you'll all be glad I'm going. Rupert. Well then, I know you won't really. I say Charlotte, you might tell the others, and tell them I know I've been a grumpy brute, but it was that going on all the time inside me, like a beastly Spartan fox. It's been like waiting at the dentist all the time, and this is like having all your teeth out at once twenty times over. He tried to laugh, but he did not succeed very well. Charlotte also tried, and burst into tears. Don't, said Rupert awkwardly. Charlotte came close to him and rubbed her wet face against his coat sleeve. You're sorry, she said, and you've wound up and you'll never do it again. You bet I won't, said Rupert. I say don't. It makes it ever so much worse. Now I've got to go back to your uncle and get the kick out, and I jolly well deserve it. Just wait a minute, said Charlotte. I'm going to get something I want to give you before you go. Wait here, won't you? Don't belong then, said Rupert in calm wretchedness. Charlotte dried her eyes and went out, went to her own room, and got her favourite Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers. She wrote Rupert's name in it, and then marched straight to her uncle's room, opened the door, and went in. Uncle Charles, for once, was not reading or writing. He was sitting by his table, drumming on it with his fingers, and looking both sad and angry. Uncle, said Charlotte. Where is Rupert? said the uncle, frowning. He doesn't know I'm here, said Charlotte, answering her uncle's thoughts rather than his words. I asked him to wait while I got something to give him. Uncle, you aren't going to send him away, are you? I feel it only due to Mr. MacPherson to send Rupert back, said the uncle, to show that we regret the aspersions. The uncle spoke as to a grown-up equal. The aspersions cast on him by my abetting Rupert in his flight, and removing him from Mr. MacPherson's care. If it is a punishment to Rupert, it is not an undeserved one. Yes, said Charlotte, who hadn't thought of this. But Rupert's been punished all the time he has. No one else knows but me. He's been perfectly miserable. Only he just couldn't tell. And now he has, has told everybody, honorably everybody, and I am so missy. Come here, said the uncle, and Charlotte found a thin black-coated shoulder, a very good place to cry on. But you see, he said, it's only fair to Mr. MacPherson to send Rupert back. I am willing to believe that he has been punished enough. You don't know, said Charlotte. He's been simply as unbearable as a bear he's been so unhappy. I didn't know that, said the uncle, slowly. But no, it's not fair to that man. Rupert must go. Then Charlotte had one of her bright ideas, and its brightness dried her tears. Look here, uncle, she said. I've got it. I really have. Wouldn't it make up to Mr. MacPherson, and show your confidence just the same, if you asked him to come here on a visit? I couldn't, said the uncle, and it was plain he spoke from the heart. My work would all go to pieces. I simply can't have visitors grown up once, I mean. The books you found, they've revolutionised the whole scheme of my work. Yet, he added thoughtfully, I owe you something for that. Then pay us with Rupert, said Charlotte eagerly. Couldn't you bear Mr. MacPherson just for one weekend? Then everybody would know you were friends with him.  What was this about a Waxon image, asked the uncle. Charlotte told him, and he nodded now and then, and said, Yes, yes, and he exactly. And at the end he said, Well, you have attained your end. You have reconciled them. The charm seemed to have worked. They've all worked, said Charlotte, every single charm we've tried. Have yours, uncle. I wish they had, he answered, sighing. Charlotte, I wish I could do what you wish. Don't try spells to make me, because I can't. Rupert must go back tomorrow for a fortnight at least. But he shall come back then till the end of the holidays. Will that do? And I'll explain to him that it's not punishment, but just the consequences of what he did. If he hadn't told that lie, he wouldn't have had to go back. But would you have kept him at first, if he hadn't told it? Charlotte asked. He was unhappy there. That would have been enough, said the uncle, that and your spells. It's all right, said Rupert to Charlotte later. Your uncle's forgiven me, and I'm to come back. And he explained why I must go, and I see it. And I can stick it all right, and I'd rather suffer it up and start there. I'd rather pay something. I shall have to write and tell my father. That's worse than anything. When you come back, said Charlotte, we shall think it was all a bad dream. He went next day. The three seas saw him off at the station, all wearing arbor vitae in their buttonholes to signify unchanging friendship. And Charlotte, at the last moment, pressed the Scottish Cavaliers into his hand. I say, though, wasn't it dreadful him telling that lie, said Charles as they turned away from the platform. It was a public place, but one of his sisters shook him then and there, and the other said, Look here, Charles! If you ever say another word about it, we'll never speak to you again. See? And Charles saw. I don't mean I don't like him and all that, he tried to explain. But you wouldn't like me not to think lying was wrong, would you? Then the girls saw. You needn't think we think anything, said Caroline.  We're two to one. End of chapter 21


We've been seeing a lot of momentum in the crypto market lately as we discussed its alt season at the moment. So Bitcoin is going up kind of gradually. Some of the alt coins are outperforming a bit. The key level to watch out for today is 4,200. This white dotted line. If we zoom out on the charts though, the 4,200 is not extremely significant on a historical perspective. As you can see, during the bull run it didn't really play much. The key levels here are 3,000 on the bottom and 5,000 on the top. So this 4,200 level only became significant once we bounced. So there's the December lows over there and then once we bounced it, we tested this 4,200. So that's the top of the current range at the moment. This yellow line is the long-term bearish trend line and it does seem like it's actually broken at the moment, which is quite significant. However, it's not really the purest indicator because some people will draw their bearish trend line like this, in which case we broken it a month ago and some people will probably draw it like this, in which case we haven't broken it yet. So if we ignore that, what we really want to look for is this blue line. The blue line is the 200-day moving average. We discussed this in last week's video and the week before that. This is basically the one that we're looking for. Right now, the average price of Bitcoin over the last 200 days is 4,623. So we still got a bit of a ways to go even if we cross 4,200 today that leave us another $400 to get to the blue line. What I'd like to see in order for, you know, something that could really change sentiment is a strong punch above that blue line and then that would basically put a lot of people into a bullish stance. So definitely it's still very much alt season at the moment. On this chart, we can see Bitcoin versus some of the alts that have been outperforming. Dash has been the winner over the weekend anyways. It just hit 100% gains since the December lows, whereas Bitcoin has only done 30%. Also, we can see here Litecoin and EOS, which have done 166% and 136% respectively. So definitely we're still in the midst of altcoin season. And some of the lower cap cryptos have been even doing better than that. Some of the really low cap cryptos are up 1,000%, 2,000% in a day. And a lot of the time, they kind of take turns surging as investors shift sentiment. It's very difficult, of course, to pinpoint exactly which one is going to surge next. I mean, Dash overall, it's a solid project. They have gaining acceptance, especially in South America and in other places where crypto is needed most. They do a lot of work on the ground there. But I don't know that there was any specific announcement that really caused it to zoom like that rather than just momentum building slowly during the altcoin season. One of the key technical indicators that a lot of chartists have been looking at lately is the Ichimoku Cloud. As you can see, over the last month or so, we've been largely remaining above the cloud on Bitcoin. So using most of those indicators that are on the Ichimoku as a support level, which is quite a positive sign indeed. We've seen before that the Fed is influencing the macroeconomy. And basically, because the central banks of the world, so the Federal Reserve in the United States, the ECB, People's Bank of China, the Bank of Japan, etc., they're the ones who are largely in control of the money supply. So this basically feeds directly into how much liquidity is around and how much money is available for people to invest. So just since the beginning of the year, the Fed have taken a very supportive stance and they've been kind of lowering their expectations to raise interest rates. And you can see the effect it's had on the Dow Jones, the Dow Jones, even though we've been having a pretty good year for Bitcoin so far, the Dow Jones has more than doubled that. And you can see that overall the correlations between the stock market and between gold and Bitcoin have been rising pretty steadily throughout the year. At the moment the correlations are pretty much insignificant. We're talking about 0.1. When the correlation is 0.1, it really means almost nothing. 1% is a perfect correlation. Negative 1 is a perfect negative correlation. So 0.1 really doesn't mean much. But when you can see that the correlation between gold and Bitcoin and the Dow Jones and Bitcoin is rising steadily. And I think that's what we really want to look at is not the absolute numbers, but the direction. Overall, the central banks are increasing liquidity into the market. And that means that investors are looking for a place to put that liquidity. And I think that that's a lot what we're seeing in the stock markets and some of the commodities and of course in crypto as well. If we zoom out on this chart, again we have the Dow Jones in purple and Bitcoin in blue, we can see that 2017 was actually a fantastic year for both stocks and for cryptos. And that's largely due to the Federal Reserve influence and central banks being very supportive. In 2018, they withdrew a lot of that support. They announced that they're going to be hiking rates and winding down their monetary policy. And you can see that 2018 was extremely volatile, both for Bitcoin and for the stock markets. In 2019, again, they changed their tone and they became more supportive. And you can see that the stock markets actually reacted immediately to that. And that's because stock traders understand a lot better. They're trading on the Federal Reserve. So when they see that there's more liquidity in the market, they instantly go out and buy. However, it has been kind of stalling in the last few weeks in the stock markets, whereas the crypto is just now starting to respond to that. If you're trading crypto and want to do it more efficiently, here are some tips for you from our partner, Trade Santa. Tip number three, plan the exit perimeters before entering the trade. Set the desired take profit level and exit time frame, just in case take profit isn't achieved. This will free your money from trades that do not bring a profit and will allow you to make your money work for you. With Trade Santa, it is even easier. You can seamlessly create trading bots to trade on multiple pairs on multiple exchanges. Check it out. The link is in the description below.


Does it ever feel like you're too busy to get any work done? Does it ever feel like you spent half your day remaking an endless to-do list and digging a tunnel through a mountain of email and staring at a blank screen knowing you need to fill it but knowing you barely have enough time to write a single word, let alone a complete sentence circle here at Thought? Work should bring about life, planting something, cultivating it and watching it grow. Take a moment before you dive into whatever you have to do next, put your feet on the ground, drink a glass of water and actually notice what it feels like. Stop and breathe, reminding yourself to be fully present and aware of just this. And then go back to the to-do list, the mountain of email, the blank page. They haven't changed, but you have, so go make something that matters.