'And here it's nearly midnight!' Aunt Annie proceeded. 'What do you want?'
'You—you've left the comb in my hair,' said Tom. He nearly cried.
Every night Aunt Annie curled Tom's hair.
'Is it such a tiny boy that it couldn't take it out itself?' Aunt Annie said kindly, going to the cot and extracting the comb. 'Now try to sleep.' She kissed him.
'And I've heard burglars,' Tom continued, without moving.
'Oh no, you've not,' Aunt Annie pronounced sharply. 'You can't hear burglars every night, you know.'
'I heard running about, and doors shutting and things.'
'That was Uncle Henry and me. Will you promise to be a good boy if I tell you a secret?'
'I shan't promise,' Tom replied. 'But if it's a good secret I'll try—hard.'
'Well, you've got a cousin, a little boy, ever so little! There! What do you think of that?'