Every morning, Bunby rolls past the bakery shouting “Any crumbs for science!” Crumbkin tumbles after, half-dressed and already covered in flour.
Mallow doesn’t chase, doesn’t shout. Just lifts the little bread sign, the way it’s done every day, and waits.
By the time the brook has shifted and the fence has collapsed again, Bunby and Crumbkin always find their way back – scraped, giggling, hungry. And Mallow’s already poured the tea.
That’s the whole routine. No matter how wobbly the morning gets, Mallow is where it lands.