go, he wished he had been there to
see.

The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of
trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there,
for the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden
to mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend,
because they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves
contemptuously called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key
to the manners and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when
I tell you that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel
Fig climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel
Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate.
She was the only really celebrated Fig.

We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other
walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began
little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the
other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted
him very much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a
perambulator. In the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth
knowing, and there is usually a grown-up with them to prevent their
going on the damp grass, and to make them stand disgraced at the corner
of a seat if they have been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish
is to behave like a girl, whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or
simpering with your thumb in your mouth, and it is a hateful quality,
but to be mad-dog is to kick out at everything, and there is some
satisfaction in that.

If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad
Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply
wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called
Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has
been a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the
walk is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is
no more awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry,
who had been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to
appear in the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in
the little wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him
knickerbockers with pockets.

You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they
are not really