experience。　　Between　that　and　the　other　consecutive　memories　of　my
  boyhood　there　is　a　gulf。　　A　time　came　when　it　seemed　impossible　I
  should　ever　speak　of　that　wonder　glimpse　again。〃
  I　asked　an　obvious　question。
  〃No；〃　he　said。　　〃I　don't　remember　that　I　ever　attempted　to
  find　my　way　back　to　the　garden　in　those　early　years。　　This　seems
  odd　to　me　now；　but　I　think　that　very　probably　a　closer　watch　was
  kept　on　my　movements　after　this　misadventure　to　prevent　my　going
  astray。　　No；　it　wasn't　until　you　knew　me　that　I　tried　for　the
  garden　again。　　And　I　believe　there　was　a　period　incredible　as　it
  seems　nowwhen　I　forgot　the　garden　altogetherwhen　I　was　about
  eight　or　nine　it　may　have　been。　　Do　you　remember　me　as　a　kid　at
  Saint　Athelstan's？〃
  〃Rather！〃
  〃I　didn't　show　any　signs　did　I　in　those　days　of　having　a　secret　dream？〃
  II
  He　looked　up　with　a　sudden　smile。
  〃Did　you　ever　play　North…West　Passage　with　me？　。　。　。　。　。　　No；
  of　course　you　didn't　come　my　way！〃
  〃It　was　the　sort　of　game；〃　he　went　on；　〃that　every　imaginative
  child　plays　all　day。　　The　idea　was　the　discovery　of　a　North…West
  Passage　to　school。　　The　way　to　school　was　plain　enough；　the　game
  consisted　in　finding　some　way　that　wasn't　plain；　starting　off　ten
  minutes　early　in　some　almost　hopeless　direction；　and　working　one's
  way　round　through　unaccustomed　streets　to　my　goal。　　And　one　day　I
  got　entangled　among　some　rather　low…class　streets　on　the　other　side
  of　Campden　Hill；　and　I　began　to　think　that　for　once　the　game　would
  be　against　me　and　that　I　should　get　to　school　late。　　I　tried　rather
  desperately　a　street　that　seemed　a　cul　de　sac；　and　found　a
  passage　at　the　end。　　I　hurried　through　that　with　renewed　hope。　　'I
  shall　do　it　yet；'　I　said；　and　passed　a　row　of　frowsy　little　shops
  that　were　inexplicably　familiar　to　me；　and　behold！　there　was　my
  long　white　wall　and　the　green　door　that　led　to　the　enchanted
  garden！
  〃The　thing　whacked　upon　me　suddenly。　　Then；　after　all；　that　garden；
  that　wonderful　garden；　wasn't　a　dream！〃　。　。　。　。
  He　paused。
  〃I　suppose　my　second　experience　with　the　green　door　marks　the
  world　of　difference　there　is　between　the　busy　life　of　a　schoolboy
  and　the　infinite　leisure　of　a　child。　　Anyhow；　this　second　time　I
  didn't　for　a　moment　think　of　going　in　straight　away。　　You　see　。　。
  。　　For　one　thing　my　mind　was　full　of　the　idea　of　getting　to　school
  in　timeset　on　not　breaking　my　record　for　punctuality。　　I　must
  surely　have　felt　SOME　little　desire　at　least　to　try　the
  dooryes；　I　must　have　felt　that　。　。　。　。　。　　But　I　seem　to　remember
  the　attraction　of　the　door　mainly　as　another　obstacle　to　my
  overmastering　determination　to　get　to　school。　　I　was　immediately
  interested　by　this　discovery　I　had　made；　of　courseI　went　on　with
  my　mind　full　of　itbut　I　went　on。　　It　didn't　check　me。　　I　ran　past
  tugging　out　my　watch；　found　I　had　ten　minutes　still　to　spare；　and
  then　I　was　going　downhill　into　familiar　surroundings。　　I　got　to
  school；　breathless；　it　is　true；　and　wet　with　perspiration；　but　in
  time。　　I　can　remember　hanging　up　my　coat　and　hat　。　。　。　Went　right
  by　it　and　left　it　behind　me。　　Odd；　eh？〃
  He　looked　at　me　thoughtfully。　　〃Of　course；　I　didn't　know　then
  that　it　wouldn't　always　be　there。　　School　boys　have　limited
  imaginations。　　I　suppose　I　thought　it　was　an　awfully　jolly　thing　to
  have　it　there；　to　know　my　way　back　to　it；　but　there　was　the　school
  tugging　at　me。　　I　expect　I　was　a　good　deal　distraught　and
  inattentive　that　morning；　recalling　what　I　could　of　the　beautiful
  strange　people　I　should　presently　see　again。　　Oddly　enough　I　had　no
  doubt　in　my　mind　that　they　would　be　glad　to　see　me　。　。　。　Yes；　I
  must　have　thought　of　the　garden　that　morning　just　as　a　jolly　sort
  of　place　to　which　one　might　resort　in　the　interludes　of　a　strenuous
  scholastic　career。
  〃I　didn't　go　that　day　at　all。　　The　next　day　was　a　half
  holiday；　and　that　may　have　weighed　with　me。　　Perhaps；　too；　my　state
  of　inattention　brought　down　impositions　upon　me　and　docked　the
  margin　of　time　necessary　for　the　detour。　　I　don't　know。　　What　I　do
  know　is　that　in　the　meantime　the　enchanted　garden　was　so　much　upon
  my　mind　that　I　could　not　keep　it　to　myself。
  〃I　toldWhat　was　his　name？a　ferrety…looking　youngster　we
  used　to　call　Squiff。〃
  〃Young　Hopkins；〃　said　I。
  〃Hopkins　it　was。　　I　did　not　like　telling　him；　I　had　a　feeling
  that　in　some　way　it　was　against　the　rules　to　tell　him；　but　I　did。
  He　was　walking　part　of　the　way　home　with　me；　he　was　talkative；　and
  if　we　had　not　talked　about　the　enchanted　garden　we　should　have
  talked　of　something　else；　and　it　was　intolerable　to　me　to　think
  about　any　other　subject。　　So　I　blabbed。
  〃Well；　he　told　my　secret。　　The　next　day　in　the　play　interval
  I　found　myself　surrounded　by　half　a　dozen　bigger　boys；　half　teasing
  and　wholly　curious　to　hear　more　of　the　enchanted　garden。　　There　was
  that　big　Fawcettyou　remember　him？and　Carnaby　and　Morley
  Reynolds。　　You　weren't　there　by　any　chance？　　No；　I　think　I　should
  have　remembered　if　you　were　。　。　。　。　。
  〃A　boy　is　a　creature　of　odd　feelings。　　I　was；　I　really
  believe；　in　spite　of　my　secret　self…disgust；　a　little　flattered　to
  have　the　attention　of　these　big　fellows。　　I　remember　particularly
  a　moment　of　pleasure　caused　by　the　praise　of　Crawshawyou　remember
  Crawshaw　major；　the　son　of　Crawshaw　the　composer？who　said　it　was
  the　best　lie　he　had　ever　heard。　　But　at　the　same　time　there　was　a
  really　painful　undertow　of　shame　at　telling　what　I　felt　was　indeed
  a　sacred　secret。　　That　beast　Fawcett　made　a　joke　about　the　girl　in
  green。〃
  Wallace's　voice　sank　with　the　keen　memory　of　that　shame。　　〃I
  pretended　not　to　hear；〃　he　said。　　〃Well；　then　Carnaby　suddenly
  called　me　a　young　liar　and　disputed　with　me　when　I　said　the　thing
  was　true。　　I　said　I　knew　where　to　find　the　green　door；　could　lead
  them　all　there　in　ten　minutes。　　　Carnaby　became　outrageously
  virtuous；　and　said　I'd　have　toand　bear　out　my　words　or　suffer。
  Did　you　ever　have　Carnaby　twist　your　arm？　　Then　perhaps　you'll
  understand　how　it　went　with　me。　　I　swore　my　story　was　true。　　There
  was　nobody　in　the　school　then　to　save　a　chap　from　Carnaby　though
  Crawshaw　put　in　a　word　or　so。　　Carnaby　had　got　his　game。　　I　grew
  excited　and　red…eared；　and　a　little　frightened；　I　behaved
  altogether　like　a　silly　little　chap；　and　the　outcome　of　it　all　was
  that　instead　of　starting　alone　for　my　enchanted　garden；　I　led　the
  way　presentlycheeks　flushed；　ears　hot；　eyes　smarting；　and　my　soul
  one　burning　misery　and　shamefor　a　party　of　six　mocking；　curious
  and　threatening　school…fellows。
  〃We　never　found　the　white　wall　and　the　green　door　。　。　。〃
  〃You　mean？〃
  〃I　mean　I　couldn't　find　it。　　I　would　have　found　it　if　I　could。
  〃And　afterwards　when　I　could　go　alone　I　couldn't　find　it。　　I
  never　found　it。　I　seem　now　to　have　been　always　looking　for　it
  through　my　school…boy　days；　but　I've　never　come　upon　it　again。〃
  〃Did　the　fellowsmake　it　disagreeable？〃
  〃Beastly　。　。　。　。　。　　Carnaby　held　a　council　over　me　for　wanton
  lying。　　I　remember　how　I　sneaked　home　and　upstairs　to　hide　the
  marks　of　my　blubbering。　　But　when　I　cried　myself　to　sleep　at　last
  it　wasn't　for　Carnaby；　but　for　the　garden；　for　the　beautiful
  afternoon　I　had　hoped　for；　for　the　sweet　friendly　women　and　the
  waiting　playfellows　and　the　game　I　had　hoped　to　learn　again；　that
  beautiful　forgotten　game　。　。　。　。　。
  〃I　believed　firmly　that　if　I　had　not　told　。　。　。　。　。　　I　had
  bad　times　after　thatcrying　at　night　and　woolgathering　by　day。
  For　two　terms　I　slackened　and　had　bad　reports。　　Do　you　remember？
  Of　course　you　would！　　It　was　YOUyour　beating　me　in
  mathematics　that　brought　me　back　to　the　grind　again。〃
  III
  For　a　time　my　friend　stared　silently　into　the　red　heart　of　the
  fire。　　Then　he　said：　〃I　never　saw　it　again　until　I　was　seventeen。
  〃It　leapt　upon　me　for　the　third　timeas　I　was　driving　to
  Paddington　on　my　way　to　Oxford　and　a　scholarship。　　I　had　just　one
  momentary　glimpse。　　I　was　leaning　over　the　apron　of　my　hansom
  smoking　a　cigarette；　and　no　doubt　thinking　myself　no　end　of　a　man
  of　the　world；　and　suddenly　there　was　the　door；　the　wall；　the　dear
  sense　of　unforgettable　and　still　attainable　things。
  〃We　clattered　byI　too　taken　by　surprise　to　stop　my　cab　until
  we　were　well　past　and　round　a　corner。　　Then　I　had　a　queer　moment；
  a　double　and　divergent　movement　of　my　will：　I　tapped　the　little
  door　in　the　roof　of　the　cab；　and　brought　my　arm　down　to　pull　out　my
  watch。　　'Yes；　sir！'　said　the　cabman；　smartly。　　'Er　wellit's
  nothing；'　I　cried。　　'MY　mistake！　　We　haven't　much　time！　　Go
  on！'　and　he　went　on　。　。　。
  〃I　got　my　scholarship。　　And　the　night　after　I　was　told　of　that
  I　sat　over　my　fire　in　my　little　upper　room；　my　study；　in　my
  father's　house；　with　his　praisehis　rare　praiseand　his　sound
  counsels　ringing　in　my　ears；　and　I　smoked　my　favourite　pipethe
  formidable　bulldog　of　adolescenceand　thought　of　that　door　in　th