“Well, it caps me, Mother,” he remarked to his wife as he replaced the lens in the drawer of the bureau. “Forty-five years have I lived in this town and never till to-day did I know as oak trees flowered!”
It was after this walk in the woods that Tommy discovered that the Tregennises had a garden. Naturally he was greatly excited by the discovery and ran into the kitchen volubly explaining the need for watering at once without a moment’s delay.
“My dear soul, Tommy Tregennis, what’s all this?” asked his mother.
“Oh, Mammy, Mammy, gimme some water in a cup to water my garden; give it to me to wanst please Mammy, or my garden’ll mebbe die.”
Mrs. Tregennis did as she was commanded. Taking from the cupboard an enamelled mug she filled it with water at the tap above the sink, handed it to her son and followed him to the door.
There, sure enough, underneath the window, in three separate places little blades of grass had pushed their way upwards between the cobble-stones.
Tommy pointed to these with pride, then, stooping, he put the mug upon the ground. But the stones were uneven there and the mug of water wobbled. In all moments of stress Tommy’s tongue curled round the corner of his mouth. It curled now. Then with care and deliberation he chose another and a safer place where the cup stood firm.
After this Tommy himself knelt upon the uneven stones and tenderly stroked the fresh green blades. “Now, Mammy, look!” he said; and while Mammy looked he lifted up the enamelled cup, bent slightly forward, over-balanced, and fell upon his garden-plot.
There was a moment of deep suspense, but when Tommy found that not one of his plants was injured he smiled happily.
“S’more water, please Mammy,” and he passed the cup towards the doorway.