I told him of that Sunday evening in Ross when I went home to my dinner, and my mother had no dinner for me; I told him how I had one penny piece in my pocket; I told him how I went out and bought for it a penny bun, and how I stole to the back of the house and thievishly ate that penny bun without sharing it with my mother and my sister and my brothers. I am proud of my life, one way or another; but that penny bun is a thorn in my side; a thorn in the pride of my life; it was only four ouces of bread -- for bread was four pense (eight cents) a pound at the time -- but if I ever feel any pride in myself, that little loaf comes before me to humble me;