"See the error of his ways!" said the mother, accentuating her words by shaking the boy. "See the error of his ways!" she shouted still louder; "'tain't no good tryin' to make him see the error of his ways; make him feel 'em. Ouch!" she cried, as the boy suddenly grasped her arm and bit until the blood came.
"You imp of darkness, I'll whip you within an inch of your life for that." In an instant she had seated herself in a chair, and, pulling him over her lap, she gave him a thrashing that remained in the memory of every boy present as the most thorough dressing-down he had ever beheld.
When Mrs. Foley, breathing heavily, had finished punishing her son, she stood him on his feet until his lamentations changed from ear-piercing shrieks to subdued sniffling. Then she said, almost coaxingly:
"Now, Maisie, take him back, if it's only to keep him out of the street. He won't do a blessed stroke of work about the house, and if he don't go to school, he'll go to the dogs sooner than he would anyway."
"All right, Mrs. Foley," said the teacher, "I'll take Thomas back, and I trust he will be a good boy in the future, and give us no further trouble."
