One day, some years after this, Mr. Belton and old Jimmylegs, who were then on different ships, met at the navy-yard gate, and, being old shipmates, they exchanged very warm greetings. Presently there passed them a smart-looking young gunner, and holding his arm was a tall fine-looking young woman in a red gown, with a red feather in her hat, red cheeks, and a brilliant red head, and she looked very proud and smiling. Her companion, on the contrary, seemed overcome with bashfulness on seeing the Lieutenant and the old master-at-arms, and hurriedly saluting, made off in the opposite direction, looking uncommonly sheepish.
"That, sir," said Jimmylegs, with a sly grin, "is Gunner Hopkins, and that is Mrs. Hopkins. They're just married. He used to be called Crying Tommy, and she was Mary Jane Griggs, sir."
"I remember," answered the Lieutenant, smiling.
I wonder if grown people who have all their growing done Remember, as they sit at ease, that growing isn't fun. One's legs and arms have separate aches, one's head feels half asleep, But every day, let come what may, at school one has to keep.
And there the teachers never say, "Just study as you please," When shooting pains are flying round about a fellow's knees. Reports say, "Tommy's progress is not what is desired," And fathers call you lazy when you're only deadly tired.
You have to learn the things you hate; it almost makes you sick, There's such a lot of grammar, there's so much arithmetic, The maps and boundaries to draw, the text to get by heart, And all the while those growing pains to pull your joints apart!
Now skating, and snowballing, and managing a wheel, Are very, very different things; though tired you may feel, You manage not to mind it; the time goes rushing so That you are interested and forget you have to grow.
Dear mothers and grandmothers, they seem to understand; All boys should always meet them, bowing deeply, cap in hand, For _they_ have sense, and don't expect what fellows cannot do, Though other people laugh and say, it's all the point of view.
But, oh! if grown-up gentlemen with growing safely done, Would just remember now and then that growing isn't fun, Perhaps they'd make it easier for boys who'd like to be A trifle brighter, if they could, but are growing just like me.