“We couldn’t see anything in the garden,” I said; “we wanted to find where the pigeons went.” “But why did you take the little girl?” I hesitated about telling. It might spoil what was left of the magic; I still had a faint hope that by the time we reached Pope Lane I might have grown into a man. And then, in telling, I might do Hetty a damage. Instead of answering, I asked him a question. “When you’re married, you get everything you want, don’t you?” “That depends on what you call everything, Dante.” “Well, money, and a house, and a pony, and babies.” “Not always.” He spoke softly. Then I knew I oughtn’t to have mentioned babies, because, like Lilith, he hadn’t any. “It wasn’t I who wanted the babies,” I explained hurriedly; “that was Ruthie. She wanted them instead of dolls to play with. I wanted to be allowed to go in and out, like the children with the magic carpet.” He knew at once what I meant. “You didn’t want to have grown people always bothering, telling you to do this and not to do that, and locking doors behind you? You wanted always to be free and jolly, like you and I are together? And you thought that you could be like that if you were married?” He slowed Dollie down to a walk. “Little man, you’ve been trying to get just what everyone’s reaching after. When you’re a boy you say, ‘I’ll have it when I’m a man.’ When you’re a man you say, ‘I’ll have it when I’m married.’ You’ve been searching for perpetual happiness. You’ll never have it in this world, Dante. And don’t you see why you’ll never have it? You hurt other people in trying to get it. Your father and Ruthita’s mother, all of us have been very anxious. I’ve often been tempted to run away myself because I’m not much use to anybody. But that would mean leaving someone I love; so I’ve had to stop on and face it out. You ran away to enjoy yourself, and other people were sorry. Other people always have to be sorry when a fellow does that.” He shook the reins over Dollie and she commenced to trot again. Presently he said, half-speaking to himself, “There’s a better word than happiness, and that’s duty. If a chap does his duty the best he can, he makes other folk happy. Then he finds his own happiness by accident, within himself. I’m a queer one to be talking--I’m not awfully successful. I’ve run away a little. But you must do better. And if you can’t bear things, just _imagine_. What’s the difference between the things you really have and the things you pretend? Imagination is the magic carpet; you can pretend yourself anything and anywhere. If you’ve learnt that secret, they can lock all the doors--it won’t matter. I can’t put it plainer; there are things that it isn’t right for you to understand--this business about marriage. You’ll know when you’re a man. Now promise that you’ll never run away again.” I promised.