Already crocuses, mauve, white, and yellow, glimmered along a dripping privet hedge which crowned the brick and granite wall bounding the domain of Seagrave. East, through the trees, they could see the roofs of electric cars speeding up and down Madison Avenue, and the houses facing that avenue. North and south were quiet streets; westward Fifth Avenue ran, a sheet of wet, golden asphalt glittering under the spring sun, and beyond it, above the high retaining wall, budding trees stood out against the sky, and the waters of the Park reservoirs sparkled behind. "I am glad it's spring, anyway," said Geraldine listlessly. "What's the good of it?" asked Scott. "We'll have to take all our exercise with Kathleen just the same, and watch other children having good times. What's the use of spring?" "Spring _is_ tiresome," admitted Geraldine thoughtfully. "So is winter. I think either would be all right if they'd only let me have a few friends. There are plenty of boys I'd like to have some fun with if they'd let me." "I wonder," mused Geraldine, "if there is anything the matter with us, Scott?" "Why?" "Oh--I don't know. People stare at us so--nurses always watch us and begin to whisper as soon as we come along. Do you know what a boy said to me once when I skated very far ahead of Kathleen?" "What did he say?" inquired Scott, flattening his nose against the window-pane to see whether it still hurt him. "He asked me if I were too rich and proud to play with other children. I was so surprised; and I said that we were not rich at all, and that I never had had any money, and that I was not a bit proud, and would love to stay and play with him if Kathleen permitted me." "Did Kathleen let you? Of course she didn't." "I told her what the boy said and I showed her the boy, but she wouldn't let me stay and play." "Kathleen's a pig." "No, she isn't, poor dear. They make her act that way--Mr. Tappan makes her. Our grandfather didn't want us to have friends." "I'll tell you what," said Scott impatiently, "when I'm old enough, I'll have other boys to play with whether Kathleen and--and that Thing--likes it or not." The Thing was the Half Moon Trust Company. Geraldine glanced back at the portrait over the divan: "Do you know," she ventured, "that I believe mother would have let us have fun." "I'll bet father would, too," said Scott. "Sometimes I feel like kicking over everything in the house." "So do I and I generally do it," observed Geraldine, lifting a slim, graceful leg and sending a sofa-cushion flying. When they had kicked all the cushions from the sofas and divans, Scott suggested that they go out and help Schmitt, the gardener, who, at that moment, came into view on the lawn, followed by Olsen wheeling a barrowful of seedlings in wooden trays.