“Is my garden a garden,” he demanded; “or is it just bits o’ grass?”
“Do you love your plants very much, Tommy?”
Tommy’s fingers closed tightly and his lips were compressed as he vigorously nodded his head.
“In that case,” decided Miss Margaret, as she added more cream to the strawberries on her plate, “In that case it is most distinctly a garden.”
“I should like to give ee a bunch....” Tommy paused for a moment. A bunch of what?
He decided that just “a bunch” would do, so he began again.
“I’d like to give ee a bunch out of my garden.”
“Oh, but Tommy, it does seem such a pity to pick ....” Miss Margaret in her turn groped for a word. “The blades,” she concluded satisfactorily.
“But just on’y three blades,” pleaded Tommy.
“Two,” decided Miss Margaret, and together they went downstairs to make the selection.