Envelopes were then unknown;
they had no wax, and dared not disturb the stillness of the evening
school-room by getting up and going to ask the usher for some. At length
Tom's friend, being of an ingenious turn of mind, suggested sealing with
ink; and the letter was accordingly stuck down with a blob of ink, and
duly handed by Tom, on his way to bed, to the housekeeper to be posted.
It was not till four days afterwards that the good dame sent for him,
and produced the precious letter and some wax, saying, "O Master Brown,
I forgot to tell you before, but your letter isn't sealed." Poor Tom
took the wax in silence and sealed his letter, with a huge lump rising
in his throat during the process, and then ran away to a quiet corner of
the playground, and burst into an agony of tears. The idea of his mother
waiting day after day for the letter he had promised her at once, and
perhaps thinking him forgetful of her, when he had done all in his power
to make good his promise, was as bitter a grief as any which he had
to undergo for many a long year. His wrath, then, was proportionately
violent when he was aware of two boys, who stopped close by him, and one
of whom, a fat gaby of a fellow, pointed at him and called him "Young
mammy-sick!" Whereupon Tom arose, and giving vent thus to his grief and
shame and rage, smote his derider on the nose; and made it bleed;
which sent that young worthy howling to the usher, who reported Tom for
violent and unprovoked assault and battery.
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