She had him brought each morning into her room, and kept him all day lying on her sofa, giving him now a kind word, now a draught of cold water, and then a few grapes, with the sun’s secret in them.
One day Johnny drew something from his bosom, and put it into Miss Endell’s hand. It was the silver half-crown. He made her understand, by his expressive gestures, that she was to keep it for him; and she dropped it into a drawer of her writing-desk.
At last Johnny began to get well. June came, with all its summer sights and sounds, and strength came with its softer winds to the poor little waif. One day he stood before Miss Endell, and put out his hand. She understood, and dropped the half-crown into it. He hid it, with a sort of passion, in his bosom, and Miss Endell smiled. Did even this little waif, then, care so much for money?
As soon as he could stand, he took up his station on the balcony outside the windows, and watched and watched.
His friend thought only that the sights and sounds of the street amused him. She was working on at the “Noted Irishwomen,” which was nearing its conclusion, and it quite suited her that Johnny found the street so interesting.
As for the child, he was possessed by only one idea,—tea-roses. He watched to see the hand-barrows come along, flower-laden and tempting.
These same hand-barrows are a feature of London street life. They are full of plants growing in pots, and also there are plenty of cut flowers. The venders cry, as they pass along, “All a-growin’ and a-blowin’!” and there is something exciting in the cry. It seems part of the summer itself.
Day after day, day after day, Johnny watched and watched. Flowers enough went by,—geraniums glowing scarlet in the sun, azaleas, white heath, violets,—only never any tea-roses.
But at last, one morning, he heard the familiar cry, “All a-growin’ and a-blowin’!” and lo! as if they had bloomed for his need, there were tea-roses—whole loads of tea-roses!
Miss Endell was busy, just then, with Lady Morgan. She never noticed when the little silent figure left the window, and hurried downstairs. Out into the street that little figure went, and on and on, in hot pursuit of the flower-barrow, which by this time had quite the start of him.