He fairly wept aloud.

"Well, then, more's the pity for _you_. If you had, they wouldn't have
let you make such a puppy of yourself--and at your landlady's expense,
too. You know you're a fool," said Mrs. Squallop, dropping her voice a
little; for she was a MOTHER, after all, and she knew that what poor
Titmouse had just stated was quite true. She tried hard to feed the fire
of her wrath, by forcing into her thoughts every aggravating topic
against Titmouse that she could think of; but it became every moment
harder and harder to do so, for she was consciously softening rapidly
towards the weeping and miserable little object, on whom she had been
heaping such violent and bitter abuse. He was a great fool, to be
sure--he was very fond of fine clothes--- he knew no better--he had,
however, paid his rent well enough till lately--he was a very quiet,
well-disposed lodger, for all _she_ had known--he had given her
youngest, child a pear not long ago. Really, thought Mrs. Squallop, I
may have gone a _leetle_ too far.

"Come--it a'n't no use crying in this way," she began in an altered
tone. "It won't put money into your pocket, nor my rent into mine. You
know you've wronged me, and I _must_ be paid," she added, but in a still
lower tone. She tried to cough away a certain rising disagreeable
sensation about her throat; for Titmouse, having turned his back to hide
the extent of his emotions, seemed half-choked with suppressed sobs.

"So you won't speak a word--not a word--to the woman you've injured so
much?" inquired Mrs. Squallop, trying to assume a harsh tone; but her
eyes were a little obstructed with tears.

"I--I--_can't_ speak," sobbed Titmouse--"I--I feel ready to drop into a
cold early grave!--everybody hates me"--here he paused; and for some
moments neither of them spoke. "I've been kept on my legs the whole day
about the town by Mr. Tag-rag, and had no dinner. I--I--wish I was
_dead_! I do!--you may take all I have--here it is," continued Titmouse,
with his foot pushing towards Mrs. Squallop the old hair trunk that
contained all his little finery. "I sha'n't want them much longer, for
I'm turned out of my situation."

This was too much for Mrs. Squallop, and she was obliged to wipe her
full eyes with the corner of her apron, without saying a word. Her heart
smote her for the misery she had inflicted on one who seemed quite
broken down. Pity suddenly flew, fluttering his wings--soft dove!--into
her heart, and put