"I didn't mean it—really I didn't. Come, sit down and have the pie, that's a good boy. I'm glad you are back, and you are better than lots of the other cadets, so there!" And Tom slid into a seat and devoured the generous slice of pie dealt out to him with keen relish.
"It's really like home," he murmured presently.
"Mrs. Green, when you die, they ought to erect an awfully big monument over your grave."
"But I'm not dying just yet, Tom—pray don't speak of it."
"By the way, my aunt was dyeing when I left home," went on the boy, as he moved toward the door.
"Indeed. Didn't you hate to leave her?"
"Not at all. She didn't seem to mind it."
"What was her trouble, Tom—consumption?"
"No, she had an old brown dress that had faded out green and she was dyeing it black," was the soft answer, and then Tom ran for his life. Mrs. Green did not speak to him for almost a week after that. And yet with it all she couldn't help but like the boy.
Of course Peleg Snuggers came in for his full share of attention, and the utility man had all sorts of jokes played on him until he was almost in despair.