It was Sunday and Tom was staying home. After breakfast he went out into the garden and played quietly by himself. There were no kids around and he was used to playing alone quietly. He played with Bobby, the dog. He climbed up and down the trees. Sometimes a bird would come down to perch on top of the doghouse. Then Tom would have the greatest fun by throwing a stone or something at it. Though he never made it, he did like doing this kind of things. Now Tom had been in the garden for half an hour. Suddenly a crack was heard and the little boy began crying. "What's the matter, Tom?" his mother looked through the kitchen window. Tom ran into the kitchen. "Mum," he sobbed , "I broke Bobby's plate. I didn't know it was so fragile ." His mother put her arms round him and said, "Don't feel too bad, Tom. We have other plates for Bobby. But how did you break that one?" "I throw this at a bird but missed, and it went straight to the plate." In Tom's hand was his father's gold pocket watch. ! When did the story happen?
On a Sunday afternoon. On a Sunday morning. At noon. In the evening.