“To be sure she will, Thomas, to be sure she will.”
Granfäather removed his pipe from his mouth and with unerring aim spat into the heart of the glowing coals; “you’d best be runnin’ home now, ma man; your Mammy’ll mebbe be missin’ you.”
After this there was no detaining Tommy. He snatched his cap and ran all the way home. The door was shut, and he hammered on it with his fists, and kicked with his toes in nervous dread.
Mammy came to the door singing; how happy she sounded. “Be you all alone, Mammy?” he demanded.
“’N who should be with me, ma lovely?”
“Daddy, or——”
“Your Daddy’s up to the station helpin’ Uncle Sam.”
He ran into the kitchen. Everything seemed all right there, but what about upstairs in his little cot? “’N there’s no other little boy here, is there?” he asked hesitatingly.
Mammy’s arms were round him in an instant. “’N what other little boy should I be wantin’, Tommy Tregennis?” she managed to say between his hugs. “Why, you’re just the best little boy as ever I had!”