now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had
gathered quite a genuine tone.
Sid flew downstairs and said:
Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom s dying!
Dying!
Yes m. 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, I m
What s the matter with you what is the matter with you, child?
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:
Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and
climb out of this.
The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a
little foolish, and he said:
Aunt Polly, it _seemed_ mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my
tooth at all.
Your tooth, indeed! What s the matter with your tooth?
One of them s loose, and it aches perfectly awful.
48