he poplar who stood nearest.

"Thank goodness!... Thank goodness!... Thank goodness!" whispered the
poplars along the avenue.

Next morning the keeper came. He had merely an axe with him, for he
thought it would only take a couple of blows to do away with the old,
rotten willow-stump. Just as he was about to strike, his eyes fell upon
the black-currant-bush in the top. The currants were big and ripe. He
put out his hand, picked one of them and ate it:

"What a remarkable thing!" he said. "It's exactly like those in the
manor-garden. Goodness knows how it got up there!"

[Illustration: 'I WANT TO PICK SOME FOR MYSELF']

"Keeper! Keeper!"

The squire's son came running down the avenue. He wanted to see the old
willow-tree felled. The keeper told him about the black-currant-bush and
picked a currant and gave it to him.

"Lift me up. I must pick some for myself," said the boy.

The keeper lifted him up. He pulled with both hands at the willow-twigs
up there and pulled so hard that they snapped.

Then he caught hold of the tree's thin shell, which was so brittle that
a big piece came off in each of his hands. But then he clapped his hands
with surprise and delight and shouted:

"Keeper! Keeper! There's quite a garden up here. There are the loveliest
strawberries beside the black-currant-bush ... and here's a little
mountain-ash ... and a dear little oak ... and weeds, too ... five
yellow dandelions ... and a spike of barley, keeper.... Oh, how
glorious, how glorious! I say, I must show it to sissy ... and to
father!"

"Hurry now and eat the strawberries," said the keeper. "For the trunk
has to be cut down and then it's all up with the whole concern."

"Lift me down," said the boy, kicking and sprawling. Then, when he stood
on the ground, "Don't you dare cut down that tree," he said. "Do you
hear? Don't you just dare!"

"Ah, but I do dare!" said the keeper, smiling. "You yourself heard the
squire tell me."

"I'm going to run and fetch father," said the boy. "And don't you dare
touch the tree before I come back. If you do, trust me, I'll take my
revenge on you when I'm squire myself one day!"

Then he ran up the avenue. The keeper sat down in the ditch and waited,
for he thought that the wisest thing to do:

"The young rascal has the squire's temper," he said.

"What did I tell you?" said the elder-bush. "You should always listen to
those who know."

"It's an awful tension to be in," said the willow-tree