“It hasn't got no water in it!” Bruno explained to him, pulling his sleeve to attract his attention.
“It's lighter to hold,” said the Gardener. “A lot of water in it makes one's arms ache.” And he went on with his work, singing softly to himself,
“The nights are very damp!”
“In digging things out of the ground which you probably do now and then,” the Professor began in a loud voice; “in making things into heaps—which no doubt you often do; and in kicking things about with one heel—which you seem never to leave off doing; have you ever happened to notice another Professor something like me, but different?”
“Never!” shouted the Gardener, so loudly and violently that we all drew back in alarm. “There ain't such a thing!”
“We will try a less exciting topic,” the Professor mildly remarked to the children. “You were asking—”
“We asked him to let us through the garden-door,” said Sylvie: “but he wouldn't: but perhaps he would for you!”
The Professor put the request, very humbly and courteously.
“I wouldn't mind letting you out,” said the Gardener. “But I mustn't open the door for children. D'you think I'd disobey the Rules? Not for one-and-sixpence!”
The Professor cautiously produced a couple of shillings.