lded, opening inwards, and Letty, how, exactly, she never knew,
found herself inside----what, do you think?"

"The cupboard of course," said Tom.

"Were there olanges and bistwicks in there?" said Racey.

"Oh, Racey!" I exclaimed. "No, let _me_ guess, Miss Goldy hair. She
found herself in the bird's garden."

"Yes," said Miss Goldy-hair, "she found herself standing in the middle
of a most lovely garden. Nothing that poor Letty had ever seen in her
life could have given her any idea--not the faintest--of anything so
beautiful, though for you, children, who have lived in the country and
know what grass _can_ be, and what trees, whose leaves have never known
smoke, can look like, it is not so impossible as it would have been for
her, to picture to yourselves this delicious garden. There were flowers
of every shape and hue; there were little silvery brooks winding in and
out, sometimes lost to view among the trees, then suddenly dancing out
again with a merry rush; there were banks to run down and grottos to
lose your way in--there was just everything to make a garden delightful.
And yet, after all, the word 'garden' scarcely describes it--it was more
like a home for honeysuckle and eglantine than like what _we_ generally
call a garden, with trimly-cut beds and parterres of brilliant roses.
There was a beautiful wildness about it and yet it was _perfectly_ in
order--there was no sign of withering or decay, no dead leaves lying
about, no broken or dried-up branches on the trees, though they were
high and massive and covered with foliage--it was all fresh and blooming
as if nothing hurtful or troubling had ever entered it. The water of
the streams was pure and clear as crystal, the scent of the flowers was
refreshing as well as sweet.

"Letty looked about her in a happiness too great for words--the sight
and feeling of this lovely garden were for the poor tired and dulled
little girl, ecstasy past telling. She did not care to go running about
to find where the streams came from or to pluck the flowers, as some
children would have done. She just sat down on the delicious grass and
rested her tired little head on a bank and felt _quite_ happy.

"'Oh, thank you, white dove,' she said aloud, 'for bringing me here. He
said he could not take me to Fairyland,' she added to herself, 'but no
Fairyland could be more beautiful than this,' and she sat there with the
soft warm sunlight falling on her--such sunlight as never in her li