She was a brittle old lady who creaked as she walked, and cracked like a whin-pod in the heat, but she did her dozen miles or more a day, and passed all the fowls in review, and could not be deceived by the craftiest of farmers' wives; and in the tail of the day she became possessor, and did herself thraw the neck of the stoutest and toughest hen that ever entered a linen bag head foremost.

By this time the boy had given way in the legs, and hence the railway journey, its cost defrayed by admiring friends.
With careful handling he should get a week out of her gift, she explained complacently, besides two makes of broth; and she and the boy looked as if they would like dearly to sit opposite Tommy during those seven days and watch him gorging.
If you look at the matter aright it was a handsomer present than many a tiara, but if you are of the same stuff as Mr.James it was only a hen.

Mr.James tittered, and one or two others made ready to titter.
It was a moment to try Tommy, for there are doubtless heroes as gallant as he who do not know how to receive a present of a hen.
Grizel, who had been holding back, moved a little nearer.

If he hurt that sweet old woman's feelings, she could never forgive him--never! He heard the titter, and ridicule was terrible to him; but he also knew why Grizel had come closer, and what she wanted of him.

Our Tommy, in short, had emerged from his emotion, and once more knew what was what.