'If they come up I'll pretend I'm ill,' he thought, as he covered his head with the bedclothes.
They were coming up, all of them. There was a great trampling on the stairs. He heard the clown officiously shouting: 'This way, Mr. Policeman, sir!' and then a tremendous battering at his door.
He lay there shivering under the blankets.
'Perhaps they'll think the door's locked, and go away,' he tried to hope, and the battering went on not quite so violently.
'Master Tommy! Master Tommy!' It was Sarah's voice. They had got her to come up and tempt him out. Well, she wouldn't, then!
And then—oh! horror!—the door was thrown open. He sprang out of bed in an agony.
'Sarah! Sarah! keep them out,' he gasped. 'Don't let them take me away!'
'Lor', Master Tommy! keep who out?' said Sarah, wonderingly.
'The—the clown—and the policemen,' he said. 'I know they're behind the door.'
'There, there!' said Sarah; 'why, you ain't done dreaming yet. That's what comes of going out to these late pantomimes. Rub your eyes; it's nearly eight o'clock.'