He wanted to find out if he was much hurt; but Tommy thought he wanted to go to the water-butt, and screamed. “Hold your tongue, you little idiot!” cried Clare. “You’ll have all the world coming after us! They’ll think I’m murdering you!” Tommy restrained himself, and gradually recovering, told Clare what he had discovered, but not what he had found. “There’s something yellow on your jacket! What is it?” said Clare. “I do believe--yes, it is!--you’ve been eating an egg! Now I remember! I saw egg-shells, more than two or three, lying in the yard, and the poor hen walking about looking for her eggs! You little rascal! You pig of a boy! I won’t thrash you this time, because you’ve fetched your own thrashing. But--!” He finished the sentence by shaking his fist in Tommy’s face, and looking as black at him as he was able. “I do believe it was the hen herself that frighted you!” he added. “She served you right, you thief!” “I didn’t know there was any harm,” said Tommy, pretending to sob. “Why didn’t you bring me my share, then?” “’Cos I knowed you’d ha’ made me give ’em back to the hen!” “And you didn’t know there was any harm, you lying little brute!” “No, I didn’t.” “Now, look here, Tommy! If you don’t mind what I tell you, you and I part company. One of us two must be master, and I will, or you must tramp. Do you hear me?” “I can’t do without wictuals!” whimpered Tommy. “I didn’t come wi’ _you_ a purpose to be starved to death!” “I dare say you didn’t; but when I starve, you must starve too; and when I eat, you shall have the first mouthful. What did you come with me for?” “’Acos you was the strongest,” answered Tommy, “an’ I reckoned you would get things from coves we met!” “Well, I’m not going to get things from coves we meet, except they give them to me. But have patience, Tommy, and I’ll get you all you can eat. You must give me time, you know! I ain’t got work yet!--Come here. Lie down close to me, and we’ll go to sleep.” The urchin obeyed, pillowed his head on Clare’s chest, and went fast asleep. Clare slept too after a while, but the necessities of his relation to Tommy were fast making a man of him. Chapter XXII. THE SMITH IN A RAGE. They had not slept long, when they were roused by a hideous clamour and rattling at the door, and thunderous blows on the wooden sides of the shed. Clare woke first, and rubbed his eyelids, whose hinges were rusted with sleep. He was utterly perplexed with the uproar and romage. The cabin seemed enveloped in a hurricane of kicks, and the air was in a tumult of howling and brawling, of threats and curses, whose inarticulateness made them sound bestial. There never came pause long enough for Clare to answer that they were locked in, and that the smith must have the key in his pocket. But when Tommy came to himself, which he generally did the instant he woke, but not so quickly this time because of his fall, he understood at once.