it white as a
sheet, lifted her in his arms and carried her into the pavilion.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TWO PAVILIONS (continued).

"We must have an apiarium," Captain Barker announced a week later.

"What's that?" Mr. Swiggs asked.

"Half a dozen beehives, at least."

"No room."

"There is nothing," pursued Captain Barker, "that gives such
character to a garden as an apiarium unless it be fishponds.
I will have both."

"No water."

"The fishponds shall be constantly supplied with running water.
I will have three ponds at different levels, connected with miniature
waterfalls and approached by an _allee verte_. The glimpse of water
between green hedges will be extremely refreshing to the eye.
The apiarium shall stand close to these ponds--as Virgil commends:"

At liquidi fontes et stagna virentia musco
Adsint, et tenuis fugiens per gramina rivus

"--And shall be surrounded with beds of violets and lavender and such
blue flowers as bees especially love. When, Narcissus, I glance over
the hedge at the back of the house and behold Captain Runacles' two
acres lying waste, cumbered like a mining country with the ruins of
his mechanical toys, I have a mind to--"

"He'll neither sell nor lend."

"I perceive that in time we must set about draining so much of the
marsh outside as belongs to me. There, if anywhere, the fishponds
must lie. In the meantime there is a full rood of ground beyond the
northern hedge that we may consider. By cutting a path through the
privet there and enclosing this parcel, we gain for our bees a
quadrangle which will not only give them their proper seclusion, but
may be planted in the classical style without detriment to the
general effect of our garden. The privet serving as a screen. . . ."

Invigorated by Mr. Swiggs's opposition, the little man continued for
twenty minutes to revel in details, and ended by rushing his
companion off to examine the ground. In his hot fit he forgot all
about Tristram, who, tired of listening, had slipped away among the
gooseberry-bushes, with a half-eaten slice of bread and butter in his
hand.

The fruit proved green and hard--for it was now the third week of
May--and by the time his bread and butter was eaten the boy had a
fancy to explore farther. He wandered through the strawberry-beds,
and, finding nothing there but disappointment, allowed himself to run
lazily after a white butterfly, which led him down to the front of
the pav