When children took flowers to Miss Lavinia they laid them on her desk unobserved by the rest of the school, if possible. Then when Miss Lavinia came into the room the giver’s heart would beat quickly until she picked up the offering, smelled it, said “How very beautiful,” and looked all around. Then of course the giver smiled a little conscious smile and Miss Lavinia would see this, and say, “Oh, is it from you Ruby, or Jimmy, or David?” as the case might be.
Tommy had never had this delightful experience, but this afternoon he glowed with joy for at last it was to be his. He slipped into the schoolroom when it was empty, placed his “bunch” on the desk, then ran out of the house again, and unconcernedly kicked dust in the gutter.
Here Ruthie joined him and kicked too. “Why didn’t ee fetch me, Tommy?” she asked.
“I’ve put some of my grasses on the desk.”
This seemed to Ruthie quite a sufficient reason. “Oh, Tommy,” she said, “but hasn’t it spoiled your garden?”
“No; leastways, not much; ’n besides, more’ll grow.” Tommy spoke as one who knows. The clock struck two and the children ran in to take their places at the long, narrow table.
Tommy’s conscious smile began as soon as Miss Lavinia appeared in the doorway, and gradually it broadened as she walked to her desk. Then quite suddenly the smile faded and Tommy’s mouth drooped ominously at the corners.
Miss Lavinia had brushed aside the grass and opened her desk without comment!
Large tear-drops began to fall on that part of the table that was Tommy’s place, and Miss Lavinia’s attention was arrested by a strangled sob.
“Why, what’s the matter, Tommy?” she asked, it was so unusual for Tommy to cry.