My eyes had seen evil.

The world had committed its first offense against me and my spirit was no longer the white and beautiful thing it had been.

Still, therein is the beginning of wisdom and, looking down the long vista of the years, I thank God for the great harvest of the lost watermelon.

Better things had come in its place--understanding and what more, often I have vainly tried to estimate.

For one thing that sudden revelation of the heart of childhood had lifted my aunt's out of the cold storage of a puritanic spirit, and warmed it into new life and opened its door for me.
In the afternoon she sent me over to Wills' to borrow a little tea.