Mr Dodd paid a visit to the man in the tree; he asked the man to tell of the sights he could see.
The squat little man— who spent his life behind leaves— shook a bough by Mr Dodd and said “You would never believe.”
“But why would you live alone in that tree?” asked old Dodd, and he began to climb a branch. But the man in the tree lazily warned Dodd to stand
Where he stood— from a high-up limb, the man’s voice wandered down to Dodd’s ears. “There is a road that slices
Through miles of fields, herds of cows and small houses, and leads to a hulking metal city where lines of gloomy people trickle out.”
Back in his cottage, Mr Dodd dreamt of the road and the fields and the cows; but the city unsettled his sleep, and he woke at last knowing how
Little he knew. Then Dodd made breakfast for the millionth time: a buttery bun and some cornflower tea— he couldn’t smile at the noise of the kids in the town.
He went through the day in his usual way: he tapped on his xylophone, he painted his thousandth self-portrait, he read from his book in a slow monotone.
After lunch he liked to sit in his garden and smoke from his chestnut pipe with the eight-inch hickory handle and the green green herbs inside.
The sunlight pressed the smoky stink into the weave of Dodd’s vest When Gilbert—Dodd’s groundskeep—appeared, seeming so distressed.
“Your sunflowers’ stems have all broke!” breathed Gil; “I hit them with the mower—” Mr Dodd saw the sunless stems and nervous Gilbert cowered.
But Dodd looked Gil straight in the eye and asked him a question instead: “Have you ever seen the city, old Gil?” “I only heard tell,” the relieved Gil said,
“But what I’ve heard is that they that go can’t come back alive.” Dodd sent Gil home, who leaving said: “I also mowed over a gopher; I think he might have died.”
The next day, Dodd went back to the man in the tree. “Hello again, Dodd” drawled the voice from the leaves. “I’m leaving today for the city,”
Spoke Dodd towards the voice. “But how much nicer it might be to stay with me in my tree; you could see everything— all here for you on display.”
No, Mr Dodd thought better of it— he threw his pack over his shoulder, nervous of what's new and unknown and the thought that his life here was over.