When I was a little boy my father and mother used to take me out for a walk every Sunday afternoon. We rambled along old lanes shaded by trees with sturdy branches and dense foliage; we passed flowery gardens and farms and big haystacks; and we strolled beside cool streams bordered with blue forget-me-nots. I was very happy seeing all those things and listening to my parents’ conversation.

When we had walked so far that my mother was quite tired out. Father would stop and say : ‘Where have we come to now?’

Mother would look with admiration at Father and say that she did not know, that she had not the least idea.

Then Father would laugh and point to the backdate of .our garden and the corner of our street. It seemed as if they had come to meet us, to welcome us home. And mother would say to Father: ‘You real I v are wonderful, you know.’

And so we went in to tea.