"For God's sake, Rawdy, don't wake Mamma," he cried. And the child, looking in a very hard and piteous way at his father, bit his lips, clenched his hands, and didn't cry a bit. Rawdon told that story at the clubs, at the mess, to everybody in town. "By Gad, sir," he explained to the public in general, "what a good plucked one that boy of mine is--what a trump he is! I half-sent his head through the ceiling, by Gad, and he wouldn't cry for fear of disturbing his mother."

"For God's sake, Rawdy, don't wake Mamma," he cried. And the child, looking piteously at his father, bit his lips, clenched his hands, and didn't cry a bit.
Rawdon told that story to everybody. "By Gad, sir," he explained, "what a plucky boy he is - what a trump! I half-sent his head through the ceiling, by Gad, and he wouldn't cry for fear of disturbing his mother."
