For all the years he had known Thomas he had never heard from his lips so many words as in the last few minutes of talk with his mother.

Then, too, Thomas seemed to have found his fingers, for no woman could have arranged more deftly and with gentler touch the cushions at his mother's back, and no nurse could have measured out the medicine and prepared her egg-nog with greater skill.
Hughie could hardly believe his eyes and ears.

Was this Thomas the stolid, the clumsy, the heavy-handed, this big fellow with the quick tongue and the clever, gentle hand?
Meantime Jessac had set upon the table a large pitcher of rich milk, with oat cakes and butter, and honey in the comb.
"Now, Hughie, lad, draw in and help yourself.

You and Thomas will be too hungry to wait for supper," said the mother.

And Hughie, protesting politely that he was not very hungry, proceeded to establish the contrary, to the great satisfaction of himself and the others.
"Now, Thomas," said the mother, "we had better cut the seed." "Indeed, and not a seed will you cut, mother," said Thomas, emphatically.