Aunt Amy would take them.
On the morning of the great day Jeremy poured the contents of his watering-can upon Aunt Amy's head.

It was a most unfortunate accident, arranged obviously by a malignant fate.

Jeremy had been presented with a pot of pinks, and these, every morning, he most faithfully watered.

He had a bright-red watering-can, bought with his own money, and, because it held more water than the pinks needed, he was in the daily habit of emptying the remnant in a glittering shower out of the pantry window on to the bed nearest the garden wall.

Upon this morning someone called him; he turned his head; the water still flowed, and Aunt Amy, hatless and defenceless, received it as it tumbled with that sudden rush which always seizes a watering-can at its last gasp.