"Yes there were four boxes. And you've eaten one of them. I never saw such a boy! Well, I shall not buy you the present I promised you yesterday. To think of your eating your aunt's jelly!"
"I didn't eat it," said Thomas, in a sulky voice.
"Your face is all covered with it, so don't let me hear another word. I begin now to think you told me a story, yesterday. Come here!"
"What are you going to do?" cried Thomas trying to get away.
"I'm going to see if the lid of my trunk fits to that mark on your face," said his mother. "And if it does, I shall believe Susy spoke the truth after all."
"I said she let the lid fall on me," said Thomas.
"You said no such thing. You said she struck you with a stick."
"I didn't," said Thomas.
"What a wicked, wicked boy you are!" cried his mother. "I see just what you are. If there is such a thing as a rod in this house, I'll whip you with it till you are ashamed of yourself. What do you suppose Susy's mother thought of me yesterday, when I took your part? I only wish your father was here. But I'll whip you, you see if I don't."
On hearing this, Thomas ran to get away; his mother ran after him, and seeing a door half open, Thomas hoped to escape by that means. For this door led to a dark, low closet under the stairs, in which a grown person could not stand upright.