Tom Pinch and Ruth were sitting at their early breakfast, with the window open, and a row of the freshest little plants ranged before it on the inside by Ruth’s own hands; and Ruth had fastened a sprig of geranium in Tom’s button-hole, to make him very smart and summer-like for the day (it was obliged to be fastened in, or that dear old Tom was certain to lose it); and people were crying flowers up and down the street; and a blundering bee, who had got himself in between the two sashes of the window, was bruising² his head against the glass, endeavouring to force himself out into the fine morning, and considering himself enchanted³ because he couldn’t do it; and the morning was as fine a morning as ever was seen; and the fragrant⁴ air was kissing Ruth and rustling⁵ about Tom, as if it said, ‘how are you, my dears; I came all this way on purpose to salute⁶ you;’ and it was one of those glad times when we form, or ought to form, the wish that every one on earth were able to be happy, and catching⁷ glimpses of the summer of the heart, to feel the beauty of the summer of the year.

It was even a pleasanter breakfast than usual; and it was always a pleasant one. For little Ruth had now two pupils to attend, each three times a week; and each two hours at a time; and besides this, she had painted some screens and card-racks, and, unknown to Tom (was there ever anything so delightful⁸!), had walked into a certain shop which dealt in such articles, after often peeping through the window; and had taken courage to ask the Mistress of that shop whether she would buy them. And the mistress had not only bought them, but had ordered more, and that very morning Ruth had made

分享到：