She stared at the Prince in stupid amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son, that he burst into a roar of laughter.

But the effect upon Tom Canty's mother and sisters was different.

Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to distress of a different sort.

They ran forward with woe and dismay in their faces, exclaiming-- "Oh, poor Tom, poor lad!" The mother fell on her knees before the Prince, put her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face through her rising tears.
Then she said-- "Oh, my poor boy! Thy foolish reading hath wrought its woeful work at last, and ta'en thy wit away.

Ah! why did'st thou cleave to it when I so warned thee 'gainst it?
Thou'st broke thy mother's heart." The Prince looked into her face, and said gently-- "Thy son is well, and hath not lost his wits, good dame.