ought is a happy one, and makes me
enjoy the world I live in all the more."

"Well, then, let us enjoy it together, and talk about orchids and
tulips, and things we can see and handle," said St Aubyn, cheerfully.
"How's Aunt Charlotte, for instance? Has she quite forgiven you for
having saved her life?"

"Oh, quite, I think," replied Austin, his eyes twinkling. "I believe
she's almost grateful, for when she came back from town she presented
me with a gold pencil-case. She doesn't often do that sort of thing,
poor dear, and I'm sure she meant it as a sign of reconciliation. It's
pretty, isn't it?" he added, taking it out of his pocket.

"Charming," assented St Aubyn. "That bit of lapis lazuli at the top,
with a curious design upon it, is by way of being an amulet, I
suppose?"

"H'm! I don't believe in amulets, you know," said Austin, nodding
sagely. "I consider that all nonsense."

"Yet there's no doubt that some amulets have influence," remarked St
Aubyn. "If a piece of amber, for example, has been highly magnetised
by a 'sensitive,' as very psychic persons are called, it is quite
possible that, worn next the skin, a certain amount of magnetic fluid
may be transmitted to the wearer, producing a distinct effect upon his
vitality. There's nothing occult about that. The most thoroughgoing
materialist might acknowledge it. But when it comes to spells, and all
that gibberish, there, of course, I part company. The magical power of
certain precious stones may be a fact of nature, but I see no proof
of its truth, and therefore I don't believe in it."

"And now may we go and look at the flowers?" suggested Austin.

"Come along," returned St Aubyn. "What a boy you are for flowers! Do
you know much of botany?"

"No--yes, a little--but not nearly as much as I ought," said Austin,
as they strolled through the blaze of colour. "I love flowers for
their beauty and suggestiveness, irrespective of the classifications
to which they may happen to belong. A garden is to me the most
beautiful thing in the world. There's something sacred about it.
Everything that's beautiful is good, and if it isn't beautiful it
can't be good, and when one realises beauty one is happy. That's why I
feel so much happier in gardens than in church."

"Why, aren't you fond of church?" asked St Aubyn, amused.

"A garden makes me happier," said Austin. "Religion seems to encourage
pain, and ugliness, and mourning. I don't know why it should, but
nearl