The morning that Dickon⁠—after they had been enjoying themselves in the garden for about two hours⁠—went behind a big rosebush and brought forth two tin pails and revealed that one was full of rich new milk with cream on the top of it, and that the other held cottage-made currant buns folded in a clean blue and white napkin, buns so carefully tucked in that they were still hot, there was a riot of surprised joyfulness. What a wonderful thing for Mrs. Sowerby to think of! What a kind, clever woman she must be! How good the buns were! And what delicious fresh milk!

“Magic is in her just as it is in Dickon,” said Colin. “It makes her think of ways to do things⁠—nice things. She is a Magic person. Tell her we are grateful, Dickon⁠—extremely grateful.”

He was given to using rather grownup phrases at times. He enjoyed them. He liked this so much that he improved upon it.