il!" which comes, at age-long intervals, from some
peak before whose infinite distance his finite sight fails.

At intervals throughout the day, Miss Evelina heard the Piper's flute,
always from the hills. Each time it brought her comfort, for she knew
that, as yet, he had not gone. Once she fancied that he had gone long
ago, and some woodland deity, magically transported from ancient
Greece, had taken his place. Late in the afternoon, she heard it once,
but so far and faintly that she guessed it was for the last time.

In her garden there were flowers, blooming luxuriantly. From their
swaying censers, fragrant incense filled the air. The weeds had been
taken out and no trace was left. From the garden of her heart the
weeds were gone, too, but there were no flowers. Rue and asphodel had
been replaced by lavender and rosemary; the deadly black poppy had been
uprooted, and where it had grown there were spikenard and balm. Yet,
as the Piper had said, she asked for roses, and it is not every garden
in which roses will bloom.

At dusk she went out into her transformed garden. Where once the
thorns had held her back, the paths were straight and smooth. Dense
undergrowth and clinging vines no longer made her steps difficult.
Piper Tom had made her garden right, and opened before her, clearly,
the way of her soul.

In spite of the beauty there was desolation, because the cheery
presence had gone to return no more. Her loneliness was so acute that
it was almost pain, and yet the pain was bearable, because he had
taught her how to endure and to look beyond.

Fairy-like, the white moths fluttered through the garden, and the
crickets piped cheerily. Miss Evelina stopped her ears that she might
not hear their piping, rude reminder, as it was, of music that should
come no more, but, even so, she could not shut out remembrance.

With a flash of her old resentment, she recalled how everything upon
which she had ever depended had been taken away from her, almost
immediately. No sooner had she learned the sweetness of clinging than
she had been forced to stand alone. One by one the supports had been
removed, until she stood alone, desolate and wretched, indeed, but
alone. Of such things as these self-reliance is made.

Suddenly, the still air seemed to stir. A sound that was neither
breath nor music, so softly was it blown, echoed in from the hills.
Then came another and another--merest hints of melody, till at las