“And he went and milkted the Cow!” Bruno put in.
“Yes,” said Sylvie, meekly accepting the new verb. “And the Cow said ‘Moo! What are you going to do with all that Milk?’ And Bruno said ‘Please’m, I want it for my Picnic.’ And the Cow said ‘Moo! But I hope you won’t boil any of it?’ And Bruno said ‘No, indeed I won’t! New Milk’s so nice and so warm, it wants no boiling!’ ”
“It doesn’t want no boiling,” Bruno offered as an amended version.
“So Bruno put the Milk in a bottle. And then Bruno said ‘Now I want some Bread!’ So he went to the Oven, and he took out a delicious new Loaf. And the Oven—”
“—ever so light and so puffy!” Bruno impatiently corrected her. “Oo shouldn’t leave out so many words!”
Sylvie humbly apologised. “—a delicious new Loaf, ever so light and so puffy. And the Oven said—” Here Sylvie made a long pause. “Really I don’t know what an Oven begins with, when it wants to speak!”
Both children looked appealingly at me; but I could only say, helplessly, “I haven’t the least idea! I never heard an Oven speak!”
For a minute or two we all sat silent; and then Bruno said, very softly, “Oven begins wiz ‘O.’ ”
“Good little boy!” Sylvie exclaimed. “He does his spelling very nicely. He’s cleverer than he knows!” she added, aside, to me. “So the Oven said ‘O! What are you going to do with all that Bread?’ And Bruno said ‘Please—’ Is an Oven ‘Sir’ or ‘ ’m,’ would you say?” She looked to me for a reply.
“Both, I think,” seemed to me the safest thing to say.
Sylvie adopted the suggestion instantly. “So Bruno said ‘Please, Sirm, I want it for my Picnic.’ And the Oven said ‘O! But I hope you won’t toast any of it?’ And Bruno said ‘No, indeed I won’t! New Bread’s so light and so puffy, it wants no toasting!’ ”
“It never doesn’t want no toasting,” said Bruno. “I wiss oo wouldn’t say it so short!”
“So Bruno put the Bread in the hamper. Then Bruno said ‘Now I want some Apples!’ So he took the hamper, and he went to the Apple-Tree, and he picked some lovely ripe Apples. And the Apple-Tree said—” Here followed another long pause.
Bruno adopted his favourite expedient of tapping his forehead; while Sylvie gazed earnestly upwards, as if she hoped for some suggestion from the birds, who were singing merrily among the branches overhead. But no result followed.
“What does an Apple-tree begin with, when it wants to speak?” Sylvie murmured despairingly, to the irresponsive birds.
At last, taking a leaf out of Bruno’s book, I ventured on a remark. “Doesn’t ‘Apple-tree’ always begin with ‘Eh!’?”
“Why, of course it does! How clever of you!” Sylvie cried delightedly.
Bruno jumped up, and patted me on the head. I tried not to feel conceited.
“So the Apple Tree said ‘Eh! What are you going to do with all those Apples?’ And Bruno said ‘Please, Sir, I want them for my Picnic,’ And the Apple-Tree said ‘Eh! But I hope you won’t bake any of them?’ And Bruno said ‘No, indeed I won’t! Ripe Apples are so nice and so sweet, they want no baking!’ ”
“They never doesn’t—” Bruno was beginning, but Sylvie corrected herself before he could get the words out.
“ ‘They never doesn’t nonow want no baking.’ So Bruno put the Apples in the hamper, along with the Bread, and the bottle of Milk. And he set off to have a Picnic, on the top of the hill, all by himself—”
“He wasn’t greedy, oo know, to have it all by himself,” Bruno said, patting me on the cheek to call my attention; “ ’cause he hadn’t got no brothers and sisters.”
“It was very sad to have no sisters, wasn’t it?” I said.
“Well, I don’t know,” Bruno said thoughtfully; “ ’cause he hadn’t no lessons to do. So he didn’t mind.”
Sylvie went on. “So, as he was walking along the road, he heard behind him such a curious sort of noise—a sort of a Thump! Thump! Thump! ‘Whatever is that?’ said Bruno. ‘Oh, I know!’ said Bruno. ‘Why, it’s only my Watch a-ticking!’ ”
“Were it his Watch a-ticking?” Bruno asked me, with eyes that fairly sparkled with mischievous delight.
“No doubt of it!” I replied. And Bruno laughed exultingly.
“Then Bruno thought a little harder. And he said ‘No! It can’t be my Watch a-ticking; because I haven’t got a Watch!’ ”
Bruno peered up anxiously into my face, to see how I took it. I hung my head, and put a thumb into my mouth, to the evident delight of the little fellow.
“So Bruno went a little further along the road. And then he heard it again, that queer noise—Thump! Thump! Thump! ‘What ever is that?’ said Bruno. ‘Oh, I know!’ said Bruno. ‘Why, it’s only the Carpenter amending my Wheelbarrow!’ ”
“Were it the Carterpenter amending his Wheelbarrow?” Bruno asked me.
I brightened up, and said “It must have been!” in a tone of absolute conviction.
Bruno threw his arms round Sylvie’s neck. “Sylvie!” he said, in a perfectly audible whisper. “He says it must have been!”
“Then Bruno thought a little harder. And he said ‘No! It can’t be the Carpenter amending my Wheelbarrow, because I haven’t got a Wheelbarrow!’ ”
This time I hid my face in my hands, quite unable to meet Bruno’s look of triumph.
“So Bruno went a little further along the road. And then he heard that queer noise again—Thump! Thump! Thump! So he thought he’d look round, this time, just to see what it was. And what should it be but a great Lion!”
“A great big Lion,” Bruno corrected her.
“A great big Lion. And Bruno was ever so frightened, and he ran—”
“No, he wasn’t flightened a bit!” Bruno interrupted. (He was evidently anxious for the reputation of his namesake.) “He runned away to get a good look at the Lion; ’cause he wanted to see if it were the same Lion what used
