"I have kept your bit just as you arranged it," she said, "for I knew that some day you would come back."
"Did you get my Jerusalem artichokes?"
"Ah, you planted them to surprise me! You always liked to give surprises, my boy."
The moment had come.
"Is the cowshed just the same since poor Rousette went?" I asked.
"Oh, no; I keep my wood there now."
We had reached the shed by this time. I pushed open the door and at once our cow, who was hungry, began to bellow.
"A cow! A cow in my cowshed!" cried Mother Barberin.
Mattia and I burst out laughing.