he
gooseberry garden, "only," as she remarked to herself, "because I have
told him he is not to."

Now the gooseberry garden had two doors by which it might be entered, and
once a small person like Nicholas could slip in there he could
effectually disappear from view amid the masking growth of artichokes,
raspberry canes, and fruit bushes. The aunt had many other things to do
that afternoon, but she spent an hour or two in trivial gardening
operations among flower beds and shrubberies, whence she could keep a
watchful eye on the two doors that led to the forbidden paradise. She
was a woman of few ideas, with immense powers of concentration.

Nicholas made one or two sorties into the front garden, wriggling his way
with obvious stealth of purpose towards one or other of the doors, but
never able for a moment to evade the aunt's watchful eye. As a matter of
fact, he had no intention of trying to get into the gooseberry garden,
but it was extremely convenient for him that his aunt should believe that
he had; it was a belief that would keep her on self-imposed sentry-duty
for the greater part of the afternoon. Having thoroughly confirmed and
fortified her suspicions Nicholas slipped back into the house and rapidly
put into execution a plan of action that had long germinated in his
brain. By standing on a chair in the library one could reach a shelf on
which reposed a fat, important-looking key. The key was as important as
it looked; it was the instrument which kept the mysteries of the lumber-
room secure from unauthorised intrusion, which opened a way only for
aunts and such-like privileged persons. Nicholas had not had much
experience of the art of fitting keys into keyholes and turning locks,
but for some days past he had practised with the key of the schoolroom
door; he did not believe in trusting too much to luck and accident. The
key turned stiffly in the lock, but it turned. The door opened, and
Nicholas was in an unknown land, compared with which the gooseberry
garden was a stale delight, a mere material pleasure.

Often and often Nicholas had pictured to himself what the lumber-room
might be like, that region that was so carefully sealed from youthful
eyes and concerning which no questions were ever answered. It came up to
his expectations. In the first place it was large and dimly lit, one
high window opening on to the forbidden garden being its only source of
illumination. In the second place it was