In half an hour or so he returned, dragging a large conical shrub, armed with spikes for leaves, incredibly dense and prickly.
"There," said he, "there's a vegetable porcupine for you.

This is your best defense against that roaring bugbear." "That little tree!" said Helen; "the tiger would soon jump over that." "Ay, but not over this and sixty more; a wall of stilettos.

Don't touch it, please." He worked very hard all day, and brought twelve of these prickly trees to the bower by sunset.

He was very dissatisfied with his day's work; seemed quite mortified.
"This comes of beginning at the wrong end," he said; "I went to work like a fool.

I should have begun by making a cart." "But you can't do that," said Helen, soothingly; "no gentleman can make a cart." "Oh, surely anybody can make a cart, by a little thinking," said he.
"I wish," said Helen, listlessly, "you would think of something for me to do; I begin to be ashamed of not helping." "Hum! you can plait ?" "Yes, as far as seven strands." "Then you need never be unemployed.