s. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day,
when they were playing near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have
been drowned had not Sooty dived in and rescued him; and the water had
washed Sooty clean, and he now stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost
father. So Malcolm would not let his mother put her arm round his neck
any more.

Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket pitches, and
frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is
scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he
is out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are
wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something
else. The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket,
which is real cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a
racquet and the governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when
you are watching their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them.
Nevertheless, there was a very disagreeable incident one day when some
forward girls challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called
Angela Clare sent down so many yorkers that--However, instead of
telling you the result of that regrettable match I shall pass on
hurriedly to the Round Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the
Gardens going.

It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when
you are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good
all the time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good
in the Broad Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the
reason is that you forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that
you may as well be wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round
Pond, such big boats that they bring them in barrows, and sometimes in
perambulators, and then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children
in the Gardens are those who had to walk too soon because their father
needed the perambulator.

You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the
end your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the pond the first day
is splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is
splendid, but soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest
craft that slips her moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a
stick-boat, because she is rather like a stick until she is in the
water and you are holding the string. Then as you walk round, pulling
her, you