But Tommy refused and kicked a ball savagely round and round the coach-house to soothe his outraged feelings. Violent exercise, however, did not allay his hunger.
“Please can I have a split,” he asked once more.
Without speaking, Miss Margaret offered him a piece of bread and butter exactly the size of that which he had hidden in the sand, and Tommy ate it without remonstrance.
After lunch the picnic-party played ball-games in the roomy coach-house, but when at the end of an hour the rain showed no sign of abating, the ladies, in spite of Ruthie’s earnest pleading, decided that it would be wiser to go home.
Somewhat dejectedly they walked to the inn for the gingle and Jimmy. Tommy brought up the rear, trailing his long spade after him and rattling his bucket against his knees each step he took. “Well,” Miss Dorothea overheard him say, “Well, Ruthie; now this day do be bravely spoiled.”
On the homeward drive Miss Dorothea told the children the history of Little Black Sambo. Then Ruthie told a story in which full-stops occurred in the middle of sentences whenever it was absolutely necessary that she should pause for breath.
“There was wanst a little boy an’ he had a rabbit and it lived in a house in the garden an’ he went up to feed it with green stuff one night an’ he. Left the door open an’ he met a man an’ he said to the man what have you got in your pocket an’ the man said a little rabbit an’ the boy took this little baby rabbit an’ took it to his home because he’d lost his own rabbit. Through leavin’ the door open an’ he met a man an’ he said to the man what’ve you got in your pocket an’ he said a very little bird so he took it to his home and put it in a house in his garden.”
At some length the story went on. Always the boy met a man, and always the man had in his pocket some strange and unexpected animal which the boy took to his home and put in a house in the garden.