The good Book says, 'it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder!' my dear Mas'r!" Tom's voice choked, and the tears ran down his cheeks.
"You poor, silly fool!" said St.Clare, with tears in his own eyes.

"Get up, Tom.

I'm not worth crying over." But Tom wouldn't rise, and looked imploring.
"Well, I won't go to any more of their cursed nonsense, Tom," said St.
Clare; "on my honor, I won't.

I don't know why I haven't stopped long ago.

I've always despised _it_, and myself for it,--so now, Tom, wipe up your eyes, and go about your errands.