I pumped for Aunty May and we had a lovely time. We played a game with the dishes. Plates were ladies and saucers were little girls, and cups were little boys, and knives and forks were policemen and spoons were servants. We had a lot of fun, when the knives and forks marched round the table, and ordered the other dishes into the cupboard.
After that was done, Aunty May said she must go upstairs and help Aunty Edith, and unpack her own typewriter. Aunty May writes stories, too, only she uses a typewriter and I use a pencil.
Aunty May asked me whether I'd sit in the window seat and read a picture-book or would I explore the garden. I said I would do both; look at pictures a little while and go in the garden. Aunty May made me promise not to go too near the river, or too far down the towpath.
Then she went upstairs and I read a little till I had enough of reading, and I thought I'd go to the towpath, but first, as I was thirsty, I thought I'd get a glass and take a drink at the pump. But when I tried to pump, the pump-handle just went up in the air, and wouldn't pump up any water!
And just as I tried it again, I heard somebody say, "That pump handle oughter been left up in the air. Say, young feller, you gotter pour some water down first. That pump ain't been used stiddy for some little while back. Ease it up and she'll go all right."
I turned around, and there, leaning against the fence, was an old man with big blue eyes and a white mustache, and a pipe, and a plaid vest and a soft hat, and the biggest lot of cats I ever saw. Seven of them, white and gray and black and mixed colors, all looking up at me.
I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say. But the old gentleman said, "Wait here, and I'll fetch you a kittle of water," and he turned and went into the white stone house, and all the cats ran after him. But he shut the door tight, and the cats sat waiting and mewing on the back porch, and I held on to the pump-handle and waited too.
