With one salt tear he renounced--a child, a mother.
On his way downstairs he was received by Shovel and party, who planted their arrows neatly.

Kids cried steadily, he was told, for the first year.

A boy one was bad enough, but a girl one was oh lawks.

He must never again expect to get playing with blokes like what they was.
Already she had got round his old gal who would care for him no more.
What would they say about this in Thrums?
Shovel even insisted on returning him his cap, and for some queer reason, this cut deepest.

Tommy about to charge, with his head down, now walked away so quietly that Shovel, who could not help liking the funny little cuss, felt a twinge of remorse, and nearly followed him with a magnanimous offer: to treat him as if he were still respectable.
Tommy lay down on a distant stair, one of the very stairs where _she_ had sat with him.