Once, even Tom's dull wit caught something of meaning in the blaze of
the blue eyes.
"What are you saying, you little devil?" he growled, and released her so
suddenly that she fell on her knees in the mud.
And she put her hands together, as she was in the habit of doing, and
prayed, "O God, please kill brother Tom!"
"Little devil!" said brother Tom, with a startled red face, and made a
dash at her; but she had foreseen that and was gone like a flash.
One might have expected her childish comeliness to exercise something of
a mollifying effect on his brutality. On the contrary, it seemed but to
increase it. She was so sweet; he was so coarse. She was so small and
fragile; he was so big and strong. Her prettiness might work on others.
He would let her see and feel that he was not the kind to be fooled by
such things.
He had the elemental heartlessness of the savage, which recognises no
sufferings but its own, and refuses to be affected even by them.
When Nance's kitten, presented to her by their neighbour, Mrs. Helier
Baker, solved much speculation as to its sex by becoming a mother, Tom
gladly undertook the task of drowning the superfluous offspring.
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