His eyes
fell on a stack of flower-pots left by Narcissus beside the path.
He fetched one, set it upside-down in front of the door and climbed
atop of it.
This time he reached the latch and lifted it with some difficulty.
His weight pressed the door open and he fell forward, sprawling on
hands and knees, into the next garden.
He picked himself up, and was on the point of fetching a prolonged
howl, but suddenly thought better of it and began to stare instead.
Barely six paces in front of him, and in the centre of a round
garden-bed, a small girl was kneeling. She held a rusty table-knife,
the blade of which was covered with mould; and as she gazed back at
him the boy saw that her face was stained with weeping.
"Hallo!"
"Hallo!"
"I was just thinking of you, little boy, and beginning to despise
you, when plump--in you tumbled."
"But, I say--look here, you know--I've been told what despising is,
and if you despise me you ought to say why."
"Because I've been ordered to. I'm going to do it out of this book
here. Listen: 'A point is that which has no parts and no magnitude,'
and that's only the beginning. Oh, my dear, I'll wither you up--you
just wait a bit!"
She dug the knife viciously into the earth.
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