'I don't think so, dear.' Aunt Annie smiled. She was half way through the door, and spoke into the passage.
'But are you sure?' Tom persisted.
'Yes, I'm sure. Go to sleep.'
'Doesn't Aunt Susan want another one?'
'No, she doesn't. Go to sleep, I say.'
''Cause, when I came, another little boy came just afterwards, and he died, that little boy did. And mamma, too. Father told me.'
'Yes, yes,' said Aunt Annie, closing the door. 'Bee-by.'
'I didn't promise,' Tom murmured to his conscience. 'But it's a good secret,' he added brazenly. He climbed over the edge of the cot, and let himself down gently till his feet touched the floor. He found his clothes, which Aunt Annie invariably placed on a chair in a certain changeless order, and he put some of them on, somehow. Then he softly opened the door and crept down the stairs to the second-floor. He was an adventurous and incalculable child, and he desired to see the baby.
Persons who called on Mr. Henry Knight in his private capacity rang at the side-door to the right of the shop, and were instructed by the shop-caretaker to mount two flights of stairs, having mounted which they would perceive in front of them a door, where they were to ring again. This door was usually closed, but to-night Tom found it ajar. He peeped out and downwards, and thought of the vast showroom below and the wonderful regions of the street. Then he drew in his head, and concealed himself behind the plush portière. From his hiding-place he could watch the door of Uncle Henry's and Aunt Susan's bedroom, and he could also, whenever he felt inclined, glance down the stairway.