Alpha Book

The house, a long two-storied affair with white shutters and pillared
veranda, was built of gray stone; the garden was walled with it--a
precaution against no rougher intruder than the wind, which would have
whipped unsheltered flowers and fruit-trees into ribbons.
Walks of hardened earth, to which green mould clung in patches, wound
through the grounds and threaded the three little groves of oak,
chestnut, and locust, in the centres of which, set in circular lawns,
were the three axes of interest--the stone-edged fish-pond, the spouting
fountain, and the ancient ship's figurehead--a wind-worn, sea-battered
mermaid cuddling a tiny, finny sea-child between breast and lips.
Whoever the unknown wood-carver had been he had been an artist, too, and
a good one; and when the big China trader, the _First Born_, went to
pieces off Frigate Light, fifty years ago, this figurehead had been cast
up from the sea.
Wandering into the garden, following the first path at random, Selwyn
chanced upon it, and stood, pipe in his mouth, hands in his pockets,
surprised and charmed.


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