TOM!’
No answer.
‘TOM!’
No answer.
‘What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!’
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked
over them about the room; then she put them up and
looked out under them. She seldom or never looked
THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were
her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for
‘style,’ not service — she could have seen through a pair
of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a
moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough
for the furniture to hear:
‘Well, I lay if I get hold of you I’ll —‘
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending
down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so
she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She
resurrected nothing but the cat.
‘I never did see the beat of that boy!’
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