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Updated: June 2, 2025
"I'll bring a camp-stool if there's not room on the bench," said Henrietta cheerfully. "People never take camp-stools to lectures," said Rupert, and when we got to the cucumber frame we found that the old plank, which he had raised on inverted flower-pots, would have held a much larger audience than he had invited. Opposite to it was a rhubarb-pot, with the round top of a barrel resting on it.
I announced that letters properly written and addressed to the little Russians, 'Reka Dom, Russia, and posted in the old rhubarb-pot by the tool-house, would be duly answered. The replies to be found in a week's time at the same office.
From this we came out on an open space at the top of the kitchen garden, where, under a wall overgrown with ivy, lay the children's gardens. "What a wilderness!" was Eleanor's first exclamation, in a tone of dismay, and then she added with increased vehemence, "He's taken away the rhubarb-pot. What will Clement say?" "What is it, dear?" I asked. "It's the rhubarb-pot," Eleanor repeated.
The child was sitting one day with her fat cheek on her hand, and her eyes on the rhubarb-pot, waiting for her share of the correspondence to be read aloud to her, when the fancy seemed to strike her, and she said quietly, but with an air of full conviction "'I know what it is Ivan is dead. "The idea took strange hold of us all.
"We should bury him in a vault; Charlie and I couldn't dig a grave deep enough." I admired Henrietta's foresight, but Rupert was furious. "How silly you are!" he exclaimed, knocking over the top of the rhubarb-pot table and the empty glass in his wrath. "Of course I don't mean a dead man. I mean what would you do to bring a partly drowned man to life again?"
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