Page 53 - Arrow Publications Pvt. Ltd.

Tom was panting with his exertions by this time.

He took a rest and then swelled himself up and
fetched a succession of admirable groans.

Sid snored on.

Tom was aggravated. He said, “Sid, Sid!” and shook
him. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself
up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare

at Tom.

Tom went on groaning.

Sid said, “Here Tom! Tom! What is the matter, Tom?”

Tom moaned out, “Oh don’t, Sid. Don’t joggle me”.

Why, what’s the matter, Tom? I must call auntie.

No-never mind. It will be over by and by, may be. Don’t call anybody.
“But I must! How long have you been this way?”

“Hours. Ouch! Oh, don’t stir so, Sid, you’ll kill me. I forgive you everything, Sid. Everything

you have ever done to me. When I am gone ....”

“Oh Tom, you ain’t dying, are you? Don’t Tom ...
oh ... don’t. May be...”

Sid flew downstairs and said:

“Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom’s dying!”

“Dying?”

“Yes. Don’t wait... come quick!”

“Rubbage! I don’t believe it!”

But she fled upstairs, nevertheless with Sid and
Mary at her heels. And her face grew white too,
and her lip trembled. When she reached the

bedside, she gasped out.
“You, Tom! Tom, what’s the matter with you?”

“Oh, auntie, my sore toe’s mortified!”

The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed

a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said.

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