Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought).

     Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out:

     "Tom."

     "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--"

     "Thomas."