<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</SPAN></span></p>
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<h2><SPAN name="TOMMY" id="TOMMY"></SPAN>TOMMY.</h2>
<p>Tommy was sitting on the bench near the
end of the lane. By his side was a basin
tied up in a cotton handkerchief; in the buttonhole
of his coat there was a sprig of sweet-william.
The girls from the big house came and stood still
in front of him, staring at him rudely, but he did
not speak.</p>
<p>"Tommy, are you tired?" they asked.</p>
<p>"Yes," Tommy answered, crossly, "I'm very
tired, and father's working in the fields, and I have
got to take him his dinner before I go to the fair."</p>
<p>"Why don't the servants take it?"</p>
<p>"Servants!" said Tommy scornfully; "we've no
servants. We are not rich people!"</p>
<p>"Wouldn't you like to be rich?" the eldest
sister asked, while the two little ones walked slowly
round Tommy, looking at the feather in his hat;
he had put it there so that he might look smart
when he went on to the village.</p>
<p>"No, it's too expensive," said Tommy, shaking
his head; "rich people have to buy such a lot of
things, and to wear fine clothes, and they can't have
dinner in the fields."</p>
<p>"My father has his dinner in a room," said the
girl.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"That's because he's rich," answered Tommy,
"and people would talk if he didn't; rich people
can't do as they like, as poor can."</p>
<p>"And my father lives in a big house," the girl
went on, for she was vulgar, and liked to boast.</p>
<p>"Yes, and it takes up a lot of room; my father's
got the whole world to live in if he likes; that's
better than a house."</p>
<p>"But my father doesn't work," said the girl,
scornfully.</p>
<p>"Mine does," said Tommy, proudly. "Rich
people can't work," he went on, "so they are
obliged to get the poor folk to do it. Why, we
have made everything in the world. Oh! it's a
fine thing to be poor."</p>
<p>"But suppose all the rich folk died, what would
the poor folk do?"</p>
<p>"But suppose all the poor folk died," cried
Tommy, "what would the rich folk do? They can
sit in carriages, but can't build them, and eat
dinners, but can't cook them." And he got up and
went his way. "Poor folk ought to be very kind
to rich folk, for it's hard to be the like of them,"
he said to himself as he went along.</p>
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