“Now listen to me, Bruno, and I'll teach you quite a splendid kind of revenge!”
“Somefin that'll vex her finely?” he asked with gleaming eyes.
“Something that will vex her finely. First, we'll get up all the weeds in her garden. See, there are a good many at this end quite hiding the flowers.”
“But that won't vex her!” said Bruno.
“After that,” I said, without noticing the remark, “we'll water this highest bed—up here. You see it's getting quite dry and dusty.”
Bruno looked at me inquisitively, but he said nothing this time.
“Then after that,” I went on, “the walks want sweeping a bit; and I think you might cut down that tall nettle—it's so close to the garden that it's quite in the way—”
“What is oo talking about?” Bruno impatiently interrupted me. “All that won't vex her a bit!”
“Won't it?” I said, innocently. “Then, after that, suppose we put in some of these coloured pebbles—just to mark the divisions between the different kinds of flowers, you know. That'll have a very pretty effect.”
Bruno turned round and had another good stare at me. At last there came an odd little twinkle into his eyes, and he said, with quite a new meaning in his voice, “That'll do nicely. Let's put 'em in rows—all the red together, and all the blue together.”