"He never gave me anything," remarked Harold, in a decidedly grudgeful tone, "and he's always known me, whilst you—why, you're almost a stranger to him! However, I don't want gardening tools; I've some of my own that father gave me last birthday."
"But they're not such nice ones as yours," May told Billy.
Harold glanced at his little sister with a frown, and flushed angrily.
"I wouldn't change my tools for Billy's!" he exclaimed.
"Of course you wouldn't, as your father gave them to you," Billy said quickly. "I suppose you know all about gardening?" he suggested.
"Rather!" Harold replied. "Father's got an allotment, and I help him work it. We won several prizes at the vegetable and flower show last August—the show's held in the Vicarage grounds every year. You haven't seen the allotment gardens yet, I suppose? No? Well, you'd better come and have a look at them on Saturday—there's no school then, and I can show you about."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Billy. "I'll come—that is if Grandfer and Granny will let me."
"Oh, they'll let you," declared Harold.
"Grandfer's so good-natured he generally lets people do as they like; and Granny—well, I expect she'll be glad to get you out of her way. She was vexed you had to come here, you know."
"I didn't know," said Billy. He felt hurt, but somehow he was not in the least surprised. "How do you know?" he inquired.