“What I mean is,” he went on, “that a little girl like you ought to do her best to learn all she can whilst she’s got the opportunities. If you don’t, why, later on, when it’s too late, you’ll be sorry. In the meantime, you want to do all you can to pick up everything at school, and not give your teachers opportunity for being cross with you in any shape or form whatsoever. You hear what I’m telling you. What’s mother singing for?” “Put this top somewhere,” suggested the child, “whilst I turn my face to the wall—I won’t look, truth and honour—and then you tell me when I’m getting warm and when I’m getting cold.” “Let’s hear you spell it!” The little person, found guilty of spelling top with two p’s, not only had to accept a severe reprimand, but was called upon to spell pot, and pop, and one or two other words; when she had gone through the examination the boy agreed to conceal the article, and she set about with great enthusiasm on the task of finding it, but the game was so frequently interfered with by his admonitions concerning present behaviour, by warnings regarding future conduct, that she did not hide her satisfaction when the mother brought in his tea. The child was allowed to stand by and receive the top of the egg. “Yes,” admitted the mother, in answer to his challenge, “I am in rather good spirits. Would you like a second cup, Tommy, or another slice of bread and butter? You’ve only to say the word.” “These are not times,” he decided, “for a man to make a hog of himself. You must arrange for the money to last as long as it possibly can, mother. Watch every penny. Don’t let there be nothing in the shape of waste.” “I managed, my dear,” she retorted, with spirit, “when your father was in work, and earning 35s. a week, and I’ve somehow managed during the last six weeks on your money alone. It’s took a bit of doing,” she sighed, “but I’ve done it.” “Set down and rest for a moment,” recommended the boy. “Expect you’re like me—you’ve had a hard day of it.” The little girl was expelled from the room for the reason that her mother, in sitting, found the concealed wooden top. The two were left to converse together; the boy found a crumpled cigarette in his pocket, and his mother, hunting for matches, sang the first lines of a song that belonged to her early youth. “I’ve got no objection,” he said, speaking with deliberation, between the puffs, “to you being light-’earted, but I hope you realise, mother, that I’m having to stint myself pretty considerably in order that you should make both ends meet.” “You’re a good lad,” she agreed, “as lads go nowadays!”