“‘Is that our fate?’ sighed the walnuts.  ’Now we know we are no good.  What is the use of trying to grow?  What is the good of living at all when we’re so ugly and useless, and the end of us is to lie and rot in the grass and be kicked by every one who passes?’

“And they wept bitter tears of disappointment and mortification; and one by one they dropped from the tree and lay unheeded, uncared for on the ground below.

“Then one morning came up the old crow.

“‘Why did you tell us to wait?’ cried one walnut in petulant tones.  ‘We’re rotting, dying here, and this is the end of us.’

“‘Wait a little longer,’ said the crow again; ’it is when we are very low that we are lifted very high.  When we come to an end a new beginning is coming.’

“The walnuts sighed as he flew away; yet the biggest one turned with a spark of hope to his brothers.

“’I do believe we have been made for something.  My skin is rotting and dying, but in spite of it all I feel as if I have something inside that is still alive.  Let us wait and be patient a little longer.’

“And then at last one day, when the apple and pear-tree were fruitless and leafless, when the flowers and butterflies and bees had all disappeared, down the garden came the master himself and the gardener.

“He stopped when he came to the walnut-tree, and stooping down in the long grass he gently raised one of the fallen nuts.

“‘You must gather these in,’ he said to his gardener; ’we have a good many for the first year.’

“‘Yes,’ said the gardener, ’they are ready now.  I’ve let them lie till you saw them.’

“And the walnuts whispered to themselves in surprised delight that it was not neglect and indifference had left them there, but that the gardener had watched each one fall, and knew where to find them when their time came at last.

“And when their green husks were removed, and their brown shells cracked at the master’s table, they discovered that the most valuable part of them was what could not be seen by outsiders, and could only be brought to light by the master’s hand.”

“That’s a kind of parable,” said Roy when Mrs. Ford ceased speaking.

“Yes,” she said, smiling; “most people are like the sparrows:  they think it is only the outside you should go by.  Now, when I see a person for the first time I always wonder what their soul is like.  If that is beautiful it doesn’t matter about their body.  And a little body may contain a very big soul.”

“Can we make our souls big?” asked Roy, with an anxious face.

“They should be growing, my boy, day by day.  Put them into the Gardener’s keeping and He will make them grow.  It isn’t the handsome and the strong who do all the good in the world; very often it is just the other way.”

“Then there is hope I may do something,” said Roy, brightening up; “I like that story about the walnuts, don’t you, Dudley?”