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"Thomas, how dare you? I should like to catch the person who taught
you such nonsense. I'd teach him!"
"It was Uncle Loveday," remarked the innocent Thomas.
There was an awful pause; which I broke at length by asking to be
allowed to go. Aunt Elizabeth saw her way to getting rid of the
offender.
"Thomas, you might walk with Jasper over the downs to Lantrig.
It will be nice exercise for you."
"It may be exercise, aunt, but--"
"Do not answer me, but go. Where do you expect little boys will go
to, who are always idle?"
"Sleep?" hazarded Thomas.
"Thomas, you shall learn the whole of Dr. Watts's poem on the
sluggard before you go to bed this night."
At this the boy slowly rose, took his cap, stood before her, and
solemnly repeated the whole of that melancholy tale, finishing the
last line at the door and gravely bowing himself out. I followed,
awestruck, and we set out in silence.
At first, anxiety for my mother possessed all my thoughts, but
presently I ventured to congratulate Tom on his performance.
"She has read it to me so often," replied he, "that I can't help
knowing it.


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