The Haunted Pajamas

by Francis Perry Elliott

"'Yah!' he says, making faces at you. 'You spanked! You hit me when I wasn't looking. My foot slipped.'

"'Foot slipped, you blanked fool!' you shouts at him, and then—" Jenkins wiped his forehead—"Then the next thing I see, you mixed."

"Ah!" I breathed with relief. "That's better!"

I chuckled. Then suddenly I felt remorseful.

"Where did I hit him this time, Jenkins—did you notice? Was he hurt much?"

Jenkins looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Um, not exactly, sir," he said; "in fact, it was—er—kinder the other way."

I stared, aghast.

"You don't mean, Jenkins—"

Jenkins evidently did! His eyes expressed both pity and embarrassment.

"What he did to you,"—he rolled his glance upward, trying to shape the idea—"I believe, sir, it's what you might call"—his voice dropped—"I believe it's what they do call wiping up the floor with."