could hit hard. But presently he was confused, and also,
alas, leering a little. You may remember that Reddy had told him she
must not go beyond the lamp-post, lest she should be lost again. She had
given him no details of the adventure, but he learned now from Ma-ma and
Papa (the man's name was Papa) that she had strayed when Ma-ma was in a
shop and that some good kind boy had found her and brought her home; and
what do you say to this, they thought Tommy was that boy! In his
amazement he very nearly blurted out that he was the other boy, but just
then the lady asked Papa if he had a shilling, and this abruptly closed
Tommy's mouth. Ever afterwards he remembered Papa as the man that was
not sure whether he had a shilling until he felt his pockets--a new kind
of mortal to Tommy, who grabbed the shilling when it was offered to
him, and then looked at Reddy imploringly, he was so afraid she would
tell. But she behaved splendidly, and never even shook her head at him.
After this, as hardly need be told, his one desire was to get out of the
house with his shilling before they discovered their mistake, and it was
well that they were unsuspicious people, for he was making strange
hissing sounds in his throat, the result of trying hard to keep his
sniggers under control.

There were many ways in which Tommy could have disposed of his shilling.
He might have been a good boy and returned it next day to Papa. He might
have given Reddy half of it for not telling. It could have carried him
over the winter. He might have stalked with it into the shop where the
greasy puddings were and come rolling out hours afterwards. Some of
these schemes did cross his little mind, but he decided to spend the
whole shilling on a present to his mother, and it was to be something
useful. He devoted much thought to what she was most in need of, and at
last he bought her a colored picture of Lord Byron swimming the
Hellespont.

He told her that he got his shilling from two toffs for playing with a
little girl, and the explanation satisfied her; but she could have cried
at the waste of the money, which would have been such a God-send to her.
He cried altogether, however, at sight of her face, having expected it
to look so pleased, and then she told him, with caresses, that the
picture was the one thing she had been longing for ever since she came
to London. How had he known this, she asked, and he clapped his hands
gleefully, and said he just knowed w