"Head," replied Lawrence, and it came up head.
He seized the penny, surprised at his own success, and would have gone instantly to have laid it out in nuts, but the stable-boy stopped him and tempted him to throw again. This time he lost; he threw again and won; and so he went on, sometimes losing, but most frequently winning, till half the morning was gone. At last, however, he chanced to win twice running, and finding himself master of three half-pence, said he would play no more.
The stable-boy, grumbling, swore he would have his revenge another time, and Lawrence went and bought the nuts.
"It is a good thing," said he to himself, "to play at pitch-farthing; the next time I want a half-penny, I'll not ask my father for it, nor go to work neither."
Satisfied with this resolution, he sat down to crack his nuts at his leisure, upon the horse-block, in the inn-yard. Here, whilst he ate, he overheard the conversation of the stable-boys and postillions. At first their shocking oaths and loud wranglings frightened and shocked him; for Lawrence, though a lazy, had not yet learned to be a wicked boy.
But, by degrees, he was accustomed to their swearing and quarrelling, and took a delight and interest in their disputes and battles. As this was an amusement which he could enjoy without any sort of exertion on his part, he soon grew so fond of it, that every day he returned to the stable-yard, and the horse-block became his constant seat. Here he found some relief from the insupportable fatigue of doing nothing, and here hour after hour, with his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands, he sat, the spectator of wickedness. Gaming, cheating, and lying soon became familiar to him; and to complete his ruin, he formed a sudden and close intimacy with the stable-boy, with whom he at first began to game—a very bad boy. The consequences of this intimacy we shall presently see.
But it is now time to inquire what little Jem has been doing all this while.
One day after he had finished his task, the gardener asked him to stay a little while, to help him to carry some geranium pots into the hall. Jem, always active and obliging, readily stayed from play, and was carrying in a heavy flower-pot, when his mistress crossed the hall.
"What a terrible litter," said she, "you are making here!—Why don't you wipe your shoes upon the mat?"
Jem turned round to look for the mat, but he saw none.