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“You are to hurry right home, John.” “Why?” flashed Bob, quick to take advantage of Jerry’s loosened lips. “But why do you give it to me, Johnny Blossom?”.
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Conrad
It wasn’t long before there were children in the trees everywhere, shaking the branches, throwing the fruit down to the grassy ground, where their fathers and mothers sat laughing and wondering at everything. To the children it was all like a fairy tale. There were dances and games and every kind of jollity under the stately old trees, and it took some skill to get the people to their places when the feast was ready. The idea of her calling him Johnny boy! That was perfectly outrageous! What right had she to call him by that name? He had outgrown it long ago, and no one used it now except just herself. Here he would be ten years old in a fortnight, no, in twelve days—or, to be exact, twelve days and a half, and so surely he was too old for that baby name. Once here, the Indian stopped and took an observation. An almost imperceptible grunt escaped him and, turning on his heel, he motioned Bob to follow. It was a surprising move, for the Indian practically retraced the steps they had just taken. Bob was soon to know the reason, however, for halfway down the hill the Indian spoke, not turning his head. Mother hugged him to her and kissed him. “But that was a horrible present, John,” she said, pointing to the whistle..
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