The garden has been a place of sweet delights the last ten days. The pear-trees are veiled in bloom, the pink almonds fully out, and the gorse a golden glory. I think my dear Dame Nature comes every night and makes some scent for me. I do not see her though, because I have to go to sleep so early since I became a doormat. But when I am carried down into the garden in the morning the air is warm and sweet, and I lie out under the fir-tree all day long, gradually getting stronger and thinking lovely secret things.
On Tuesday it was so funny and yet pathetic. Sam went before his M.O. and Ross for his last and final Board. He got home first and was tired but radiant, because he had been passed and might expect his orders any day. He was standing by my chair talking to me when the gate clicked and Sam came in, and Ross hailed him as a man and brother.
'Well, what luck, Sam?'
'Oh, all right, sir, passed all right.'
'What priceless luck, Sam; did they pull your knee about a lot?'
'Did a bit, sir,' said Sam, looking very fagged I thought.
'Hurt at all?'
'Hardly at all, sir.'
'If it hurt at all they oughtn't to have passed you,' said Ross, the officer, careful for his men. 'I shall send you back and say that you've been humbugging.'
'I don't think you will send me back,' grinned the Hickley Woods.