A short time afterwards Tom’s mother was making a batter pudding for
supper, and inquisitive little Tom must of course see how it was made. So
he climbed up to the edge of the bowl; but unfortunately his foot slipped
and in he plumped, head and ears, into the batter. His mother, poor
woman, never caught sight nor light of him, so she stirred him into the
batter and put it into the pot to boil.
Now, the batter had filled Tom’s mouth and kept him from crying out
to his mother. But when he felt the water getting hot, he kicked and
struggled so much in the pot that his mother thought the pudding must be
bewitched. She pulled it out of the pot and threw it outdoors. A poor
tinker crying, “Pots to mend, kettles to mend,” was passing in the nick
of time, so, thinking it would make him a good dinner, he stuffed it into
his pack and walked off with it. By this time Tom’s mouth was clear of
the batter, so he yelled lustily to be let out. The terrified tinker
flung down his pack and ran away. The pudding broke to pieces, and Tom
crept out, covered with batter, but glad to be alive and to make his way
home as fast as he could.
When Tom’s mother saw the state of her darling she was ready to weep.
She put him into a teacup of warm water and washed off the mess. Then,
forgetting the loss of her pudding, she kissed him and tucked him into
bed.