Some two years later the same sun looked down upon the popular English summer resort of Breaksford-on-the-sea. Two boy-toddlers — one blue-eyed and blond, the other grey-eyed and dark — met and took hands as young strangers will and wandered hand-in-hand through the shrubbery beyond the beach. They passed through the green brushwood to the tall trees beyond, till the dark one thought of something and spoke, “What’s your name?”
“Charlie,” said the fair-haired boy. “What’s yours?”
“Tommy,” lisped the other and they wandered on through the grass. Then:
“Look at the shiny stick,” said the grey-eyed one who called himself “Tommy.” He picked up a thin, sinuous thing with hard red eyes and a red tongue that shot forth like fire.
“Tha’s not a stick. ‘S a snake. Drop it — ugh — bad thing!” And the other toddler stamped on the harmless looking adder till even its poisonous fangs could do no harm to them or anyone.
The young innocents rejoined hands and toddled back to the beach to be swooped down upon and carried off by their respective parents.
To be continued….
To read part 1 of this story that Joan wrote at age 13, click here.
To read part 3 of this story, click here.
Home Front Girl 