"Why, master, I never saw you do that before."

"Nor will again, most likely. 'Twasn't for cleanliness I did it,
but for coolness. I'd be ashamed to want washing every week or so,
like any smutty collier lad."

"I wish I might go and dip my head in," said poor little Tom. "It
must be as good as putting it under the town-pump; and there is no
beadle here to drive a chap away."

"Thou come along," said Grimes; "what dost want with washing
thyself? Thou did not drink half a gallon of beer last night, like
me."

"I don't care for you," said naughty Tom, and ran down to the
stream, and began washing his face.

Grimes was very sulky, because the woman preferred Tom's company to
his; so he dashed at him with horrid words, and tore him up from
his knees, and began beating him. But Tom was accustomed to that,
and got his head safe between Mr. Grimes' legs, and kicked his
shins with all his might.

"Are you not ashamed of yourself, Thomas Grimes?" cried the
Irishwoman over the wall.

Grimes looked up, startled at her knowing his name; but all he
answered was, "No, nor never was yet;" and went on beating Tom.

"True for you. If you ever had been ashamed of yourself, you would