When Tommy took the baby, he renewed that moment, and began to cherish
the sense of an injury done him by the poor helpless thing. He did not
pinch it, only because he dared not, lest it should cry. When he heard
Clare fall on the coals, and then heard him call up from the depth of
the cellar, he was greatly tempted to turn with it to the other end of
the house, and throw it in the pool, then make for the wall and the
fields, leaving Clare to shift for himself. But he durst not go near
the pool, and Clare would be sure to get out again and be after him!
so he stood with the hated creature in his unprotective arms. When
Clare called for it, he got into the shallow area, and pushed the baby
through the window, grasping the extreme of its garment, and letting
it hang into the darkness of the cellar, head downward. I believe then
the baby was sick, for, a moment after, and before Clare could get a
hold of it, it began to cry. The sound thrilled him with delight.

"Oh, the darling!--Can't you let her down a bit farther, Tommy?" he
said, with suppressed eagerness.

He had climbed on the heap of coals, and was stretching up his arms to
receive her. In the faint glimmer from the diffused light of the moon,
he could just distinguish the window, blocked up by Tommy; the baby he
could not see.

"No, I can't," answered Tommy. "Catch! There!"

So saying he yielded to his spite, and waiting no sign of preparedness
on the part of Clare, let go his hold, and dropped the little one. It
fell on Clare and knocked him over; but he clasped it to him as he
fell, and they hurtled to the bottom of the coals without much damage.