Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. With his gimblet he contrived to bore a number of holes so close together that at last one end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same with the other extremity, it fell out altogether. I don’t care. I'll stamp twice when we've done. Sebastian grabbed a rock from a corner and bashed in its skull.
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