"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 life she had seen before—the brooks dancing along at her feet, the gentle little breezes kissing her face, in, as I said, complete content. Suddenly from the groves here and there about the garden, there came the sound of warbling birds. There were many different notes, even Letty could distinguish that—there was the clear song of the lark, the thrilling melody of the nightingale—even, most welcome of all to Letty, the soft coo of the dove—there were these and a hundred others—but all in perfect tune together. And as she listened, the music seemed to come nearer and nearer, till looking up, Letty saw the whole band of songsters approaching her—hundreds and hundreds of birds all slowly flying together till they lighted on a low-growing band of trees not far from where she sat. And now Letty understood that this beautiful garden was the home of the birds as the dove had said. And when the concert was over she saw, to her delight, a single white dove separate himself from the rest and fly to where she sat. She knew him again—she felt sure it was her dove and no other.
"'Are you pleased, little Letty?' he said, in his soft cooing voice.
"'Oh! dear white dove, how can I thank you?' she answered.
"'You need not thank me,' he said. 'I have done only what I was meant to do. Now listen, Letty; the pleasures of this garden are endless, never, if you lived to a thousand, could you see all its beauties. And to those who have found the way here, it will never be closed again but by their own fault. You may come here often for rest and refreshment—in childhood and womanhood and even in quite old age, and you will always be welcome. You may perhaps never see me again, but that will not matter. I am only a messenger. Remember all I say, be gentle and good and do your work well, and whenever the moonlight shows you the door, you will find entrance here.'
"He gently raised his wings and flew away—to join the other birds who were already almost out of sight. And a pleasant sleepy feeling came over Letty. She closed her eyes, and when she woke it was morning—she was in her own little bed in the dull room she shared with her sisters, and Hester was already up and dressed and calling to her to make haste. But it was not a dream, for firmly clasped in her hand was the silver key and the white ribbon.