She made no movement, and he opened the door and took them out himself.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and went into the other room.
His loathing came back upon him as he slowly donned the dirty garments. For three months he had been clean, and he had reveled in the luxury of cleanliness. But that was all over now. The coal-dust would conquer him as it had done before. But he shook the thought from him, and was quite himself when he came out again into the kitchen where his mother was. She was sitting on a chair, her lips quivering, her eyes misty with tears.
“Come here, Tommy,” she said. “Come an’ kiss me. You’re a good boy, Tommy.”
He went to her, and she put her arms convulsively about his neck. He stooped and kissed the trembling lips, then gently loosed her arms and stood away. His eyes were luminous with the joy of sacrifice.
“I must go,” he said. “The whistle will blow soon. Remember, I’ll be hungry for supper,” he added gaily.
“I’ll remember,” she answered, almost smiling. What a supper she would have for him!
She stood on the porch watching him as he went down the path and up the opposite hillside toward the mine. How often had she watched her husband so! He looked back just before he passed from sight and waved his hand to her. But there was a scene on the hillside she could not see, for as the boy turned away a harsh voice startled him.
“Ain’t you Tommy Remington?” it asked.
He looked up with a start and recognized Jabez Smith.