Somewhat hesitatingly he drew near and their laughter at once ceased. “Found this!” and he held his dusty halfpenny up to view.
Miss Dorothea said nothing, Miss Margaret merely remarked “Oh,” and passed on.
Quite obviously they had not seen his treasure. “’Tis a ’a’penny,” he insisted. “I found ’e on the quay all in a ’eap o’ dust.”
Miss Dorothea passed into the house. Miss Margaret smiled politely, and “Oh,” she said once more.
Tommy was sick at heart. It was as though the very foundations of his world were giving way.
In the matter of finds he seemed to have struck a run of luck, for on Tuesday he came home with a knife picked up on the shingle near the Frying Pan steps. It was an ivory-handled knife and had four blades of different sizes; they were all rusty and all broken.
“I’ll give ee my knife, Daddy,” said Tommy, at tea-time, pushing it across the table.
“Mustn’t do that, must never give nothin’ as cuts.”
“Why?” asked Tommy.
“’Twill cut love. If so be as I took that knife I shouldn’t love ee any more. ’Tis all right if ’e do be bought, so here be a ’a’penny for ee.”