Billy looked at Tom Turpin rather shyly as he greeted him. He wished he had not shown himself such a coward before this young soldier, who, he imagined, did not know what fear meant. He was very quiet as he followed him and his grandfather about the garden, but he listened with the greatest attention to all that was said. William Brown showed where he intended sowing his various crops in the spring, and the bit of orchard he meant to take into the garden.
"I don't know how I'm going to do all I want to," he remarked, "but I shall just plod on bit by bit from day to day and do my best."
"That's what we're doing across in France and Flanders," Tom replied gravely.
"I want to help Grandfer," Billy said eagerly. "I do wish I was bigger and stronger. I tried just now to use Grandfer's spade, but I couldn't—I couldn't drive it more than an inch or two into the ground." He sighed, looking at his thin arms ruefully.
"I've some light garden tools at home my father gave me when I was a boy no bigger than you, and you shall have them," Tom told him. "I'd like to know they were being used. I'll give them to you, Billy, if you'll accept them."
"Oh, Mr. Turpin!" cried the little boy. He could say no more for a minute, so overcome was he with surprise and gratitude; then he added earnestly: "Oh, thank you—thank you!"
"It's too kind of you, Master Tom, really, but if you'll lend the tools to him—" William Brown was beginning, when he was interrupted.
"No, no!" Tom Turpin said decidedly, "I wish him to have them for his own—I'm sure he'll make good use of them."
"Oh, yes, yes!" cried Billy, his face aglow with delight and excitement.
Tom Turpin had stopped to see William Brown's garden on his way to the village. When he left, Billy went with him through the pathfields to the gate leading into the high road. There they were to part.