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Updated: May 14, 2025
I associate less elegance with the Parade-ground, into which we turned for recreation from my neighbouring dame's-school and where the parades deployed on no scale to check our own evolutions; though indeed the switch of office abounded there, for what I best recover in the connection is a sense and smell of perpetual autumn, with the ground so muffled in the leaves and twigs of the now long defunct ailanthus-tree that most of our own motions were a kicking of them up the semi-sweet rankness of the plant was all in the air and small boys pranced about as cavaliers whacking their steeds.
There were leaves on the ailanthus-tree that Evelina could see from her bed, gentle clouds floated over it in the blue, and now and then the cry of a flower-seller sounded from the street. One day there was a shy knock on the back-room door, and Johnny Hawkins came in with two yellow jonquils in his fist.
When the priest came, with something covered in his hands, she crept into the shop, closing the door of the back room to leave him alone with Evelina. It was a warm afternoon in May, and the crooked ailanthus-tree rooted in a fissure of the opposite pavement was a fountain of tender green.
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