I am too impulsive.

I rang the bell. The door was opened by a solemn man-servant, who
did not show the surprise he must have felt when I asked for
Master Thomas. Another, still more solemn, showed me into a
downstairs room. I refused to give my name, and a very large,
serious Thomas rose from a chair as I was ushered in, "A lady to
see Master Thomas." So my errand was in part explained, but the
part left to tell was by far the most difficult. If only Thomas
had lost anything but a screw! No father could be expected to
know how it had been treasured. Supposing Thomas had been crying
because he had a pain, which sometimes comes to children after
tea? Supposing he hadn't been crying for his screw at all?
Supposing he repudiated all knowledge of it?

But here I was, screw in hand, and my story to tell. I told if. I
was grateful to the tall, sad Thomas for being so solemn, and not
even smiling, when I mentioned the screw. He said he was very
grateful for my kindness, and he went so far as to say he was sure
Thomas had valued the screw.

While some one was coming, for whom he had rung, he told me that
when he had taken Thomas to the Zoo, the only thing which he was
really excited about was the mouse in the elephant's house!
Somehow or other that little story put me at my ease, for it
showed that the big Thomas at least understood in part the mind of
a child.

A nurse, not sad-looking I was glad to see, came in answer to the
bell, and the big Thomas asked if the little Thomas had lost a