is an odious
fellow. Look at him playing at cricket. He steps across the wickets to
hit at a ball, but, instead, stops it with his foot. "How's that,
umpire?" cries the bowler. "Out, leg before," is the answer.

Tom still keeps his place.

"Out, do you hear, leg before?"

"It wasn't!" growls Tom.

"The umpire gives it out," is the unanswerable reply.

Thereupon Tom's face clouds over, his eyebrows gather, and his lips
shape themselves into a pout, as he drops his bat and walks from the
wicket without a word. No one takes any notice of him, for the event is
too common, alas, to occasion surprise. We know what his sulks mean.
No one will get a word from him for hours, perhaps a day; no attempts at
conciliation will tempt him back to the game, no friendly talk will
chase the cloud from his face. There he goes, slouching up the
playground into the house, and he will skulk upstairs to his study and
slam the door, and that's all we shall see of Tom till suppertime.

Once, I remember, young Jim Friendly, a new boy, tried hard to coax Tom
back into good humour. They had been having a match at something, I
forget what, and Jim happened to say that something Tom did was against
the rules. Tom, as usual, grew sulky and walked off.

"What, you aren't going in?" said Jim, disconcerted. No answer. "I
didn't mean to offend you, old fellow; you may be right, after all." No
answer. "I beg your pardon, Tom. I wouldn't have said it if I thought
you'd have minded." No answer. "Don't be angry with a fellow, I didn't
mean--"

No answer. And so Jim went on apologising, as if he had been all in the
wrong and the other all in the right, and getting no word in reply, only
the same scowl and uncompromising sullenness. "I'll take jolly good
care not to stroke that fellow the wrong way again," said Jim,
afterwards; "and if I should, I won't waste my time in stroking him the
right way."

Just fancy what sort of man such a fellow as Tom is likely to turn out.
Is he likely to have many friends? Unless he can get a few of his own
sort, I'm afraid he'll be rather badly off in that respect. And then,
oh, horrors! fancy half a dozen Tom Sulks together! What a happy family
they would be! When Tom goes to business, he had better make up his
mind to start a concern of his own, for I'm afraid he would have some
difficulty in getting a partner, or, at any rate, keeping one. I could
quite fancy some important question arising