"You are nine years old now, and only five or six feet tall, while I am only four years old and my branches measure many thousands of feet. You bear a few flowers in the summer, and that is all you can do. You have no fruit and not many leaves. You stand still in the garden and do nothing useful. You ought to be ashamed. Do you see my branches? Although I have been here but four years, I now reach over this house and am climbing the fence on the other side. Next year, I shall go and cover up another house.
"The master likes me in summer, because I keep the hot sun from the roof and make his house cool. The children like me, too. Sometimes they climb in my arms and swing. And the fence likes me, because I cover it so thickly that I protect it from the children and the pigs. The birds build their nests high in my arms and they like me also. The bugs like me, because I give them a home and they feed upon my leaves. So the master knows that I am good for many things.
"The birds would not go to you, because you are so small; they can not build a nest upon you. The master's wife does not care much for you, because you have so many thorns that she finds it hard to gather your flowers. You are pretty, but who cares about that? The fence is high and no one sees you. And so you stand there and do nothing."
