There’s one world on the surface and another world below.”
The little waves crept nearer and, on the brink inclined,
They swallowed up the chicken with an enterprising mind.
A. G. Waters.
THE LITTLE TORMENT.
My name’s Jack. I’m eight years old. I’ve a sister Arathusa, and she calls me a little torment. I’ll tell you why: You know Arathusa has got a beau, and he comes to see her every night, and they turn the gas ’way, ’way down ’till you can’t hardly see. I like to stay in the room with the gas on full blaze, but Arathusa skites me out of the room every night.
I checked her once, you better believe. You know she went to the door to let Alphonso in, and I crawled under the sofa. Then they came in, and it got awful dark, and they sat down on the sofa, and I couldn’t hear nothing but smack! smack! smack! Then I reached out and jerked Arathusa’s foot. Then she jumped and said, “Oh, mercy, what’s that?” and Alphonso said she was a “timid little creature.” “Oh, Alphonso, I’m happy by your side, but when I think of your going away it almost breaks my heart.”
Then I snickered right out, I couldn’t help it, and Arathusa got up, went and peeked through the keyhole and said, “I do believe that’s Jack, nasty little torment, he’s always where he isn’t wanted.” Do you know this made me mad, and I crawled out from under the sofa and stood up before her and said, “You think you are smart because you have got a beau. I guess I know what you’ve been doing; you’ve been sitting on Alphonso’s lap, and letting him kiss you like you let Bill Jones kiss you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If it hadn’t been for that old false front of yours, Pa would have let me have a bicycle like Tom Clifford’s. You needn’t be grinding them false teeth of yours at me, I ain’t a-going out of here. I ain’t so green as I look. I guess I know a thing or two. I don’t care if you are 28 years old, you ain’t no boss of me!”