"Leave the fire alone. The coal is the smith's, and he told us not to
waste it."

"He ain't no count!" said Tommy, as heartless as any grown man or
woman set on pleasure.

"He has given us a place to be warm and sleep in! It would be a shame
to do anything he didn't like. Have you no conscience, Tommy?"

"No," said Tommy, who did not know conscience from copper. The germ of
it no doubt lay in the God-part of him, but it lay deep. Tommy--no
worse than many a boy born of better parents--was like a hill full of
precious stones, that grows nothing but a few little dry shrubs, and
shoots out cold sharp rocks every here and there.

"If you have no conscience," answered Clare, "one must serve for
both--as far as it will reach! Leave go of that bellows, or I'll make
you."

Tommy let the lever go, turned his back, and wandered, in such dudgeon
as he was capable of, to the other side of the shed.

"Hello!" he cried, "here's a door!--and it ain't locked, it's only
bolted! Let's go and see!"

"You may if you like," answered Clare, "but if you touch anything of
the blacksmith's, I'll be down on you."

"All right!" said Tommy, and went out to see if there was anything to
be picked up.