He made up his mind to enjoy to the full the happiness of being thoroughly naughty. No other children were on the Skiddery Rock, but Tommy slid down its steeply polished side again and again, and still nothing tore.
Then he decided that he would get his feet just as wet as it was possible for feet to be. So he threw his ball out to sea and waded in after it; and threw it again and waded again; and again, and yet again, until a wetter pair of boots and stockings than those worn by Tommy Tregennis it would have been impossible to find. This distinction achieved, a little voice within became unpleasantly clamorous; not the warning voice of conscience, but the insistent voice of fear. Tommy waded out of the water and wished with all his heart that his feet were dry.
A few moments he spent in deliberation, then turning his back upon the cold, wet sea he walked slowly in the direction of Granny Tregennis’s house. At each step he took the water squelched unpleasantly inside his boots, and each squelching step brought him nearer to an angry mother’s justifiable wrath.
“Granny,” he whispered, poking his head through the kitchen window. “Granny.”
Although it was such a warm day Granny Tregennis sat in the rocking chair by the kitchen fire.
“Yes, ma lovely?” she replied. “An’ where have ee been all day, ma handsome? Saturday, too, an’ your Granny left all alone.”
“Come home along o’ me, Granny,” pleaded Tommy.
“Why, whatever for should I be comin’ home along o’ ee?” demanded Granny Tregennis.
“Come home along o’ me,” repeated Tommy, “come with me to my Mammy; please, Granny.”