Tommy soon returned. “Can I have a split, please?” he asked, in quite a different voice.
“Yes,” he was promised, “as soon as ever the bread and butter’s eaten.”
He shook his head, and almost at once asked again, “Please can I have a split, ’n jam ’n cream?”
“Tommy,” said Miss Margaret, very definitely, “don’t be such a foolish boy. Until you have eaten the bread and butter you can have nothing else. Try to understand that I mean that.”
Tommy’s hands hung limply at his sides. He gazed in open-mouthed amazement at Miss Margaret. She did really and truly mean it, he supposed. It was very odd and very surprising, and he picked up the rejected bread and butter and slowly began to eat.
“Oh, my cake,” exclaimed Ruthie, as half a slice of saffron-cake broke in her hand and fell into the sand.
“You can’t eat that now, Ruthie,” laughed Miss Margaret, as she was about to pick it up. “It will be much too gritty.”
Then Miss Margaret realized that she had made a grave tactical error, for at once Tommy’s bread and butter fell at his feet.
“That must be eaten,” said Miss Margaret quickly, and Tommy put his heel upon it and ground it deep down in the sand. Out of the corners of his eyes he glanced at Miss Margaret, but apparently she was quite unaware of his action, so he sidled up to her and once more pleaded for a split.