This phase, which caused his parents anxiety, because it kept him
indoors when he ought to have been out, lasted through May and half of
June, till his father killed it by bringing home to him Tom Sawyer and
Huckleberry Finn. When he read those books something happened in him,
and he went out of doors again in passionate quest of a river. There
being none on the premises at Robin Hill, he had to make one out of
the pond, which fortunately had water lilies, dragonflies, gnats,
bullrushes, and three small willow trees. On this pond, after his father
and Garratt had ascertained by sounding that it had a reliable bottom
and was nowhere more than two feet deep, he was allowed a little
collapsible canoe, in which he spent hours and hours paddling, and lying
down out of sight of Indian Joe and other enemies. On the shore of the
pond, too, he built himself a wigwam about four feet square, of old
biscuit tins, roofed in by boughs. In this he would make little fires,
and cook the birds he had not shot with his gun, hunting in the coppice
and fields, or the fish he did not catch in the pond because there were
none. This occupied the rest of June and that July, when his father
and mother were away in Ireland. He led a lonely life of "make believe"
during those five weeks of summer weather, with gun, wigwam, water and
canoe; and, however hard his active little brain tried to keep the
sense of beauty away, she did creep in on him for a second now and then,
perching on the wing of a dragon-fly, glistening on the water lilies, or
brushing his eyes with her blue as he Jay on his back in ambush.
"Auntie" June, who had been left in charge, had a "grown-up" in the
house, with a cough and a large piece of putty which he was making
into a face; so she hardly ever came down to see him in the pond. Once,
however, she brought with her two other "grown-ups." Little Jon, who
happened to have painted his naked self bright blue and yellow in
stripes out of his father's water-colour box, and put some duck's
feathers in his hair, saw them coming, and--ambushed himself among the
willows. As he had foreseen, they came at once to his wigwam and knelt
down to look inside, so that with a blood-curdling yell he was able to
take the scalps of "Auntie" June and the woman "grown-up" in an almost
complete manner before they kissed him. The names of the two grown-ups
were "Auntie" Holly and "Uncle" Val, who had a brown face and a little
limp, and laughed at him terribly. He took a fancy to "Auntie" Holly,
who seemed to be a sister too; but they both went away the same
afternoon and he did not see them again. Three days before his father
and mother were to come home "Auntie" June also went off in a great
hurry, taking the "grown-up" who coughed and his piece of putty; and
Mademoiselle said: "Poor man, he was veree ill. I forbid you to go into
his room, Jon." Little Jon, who rarely did things merely because he was
told not to, refrained from going, though he was bored and lonely. In
truth the day of the pond was past, and he was filled to the brim of
his soul with restlessness and the want of something--not a tree, not a
gun--something soft. Those last two days had seemed months in spite
of Cast Up by the Sea, wherein he was reading about Mother Lee and her
terrible wrecking bonfire. He had gone up and down the stairs perhaps a
hundred times in those two days, and often from the day nursery, where
he slept now, had stolen into his mother's room, looked at everything,
without touching, and on into the dressing-room; and standing on one leg
beside the bath, like Slingsby, had whispered: