“I don’t believe a bit in such rubbish,” said Mrs. Badger, whose courage had come back with the absolute silence in the attic chamber. “I believe you’re a coward, Nathan Badger. I’ll go upstairs myself and see if I can’t succeed better than you did.”
“You’d better not, wife.”
“Oh, don’t go, ma!” said Andrew Jackson, pale with terror.
“I’m going!” said the intrepid woman. “It shan’t be said of me that I’m afraid of a little bound boy who’s as weak as a rat.”
“You’ll find out how weak he is,” said Mr. Badger. “I warn you not to go.”
“I’m goin’, all the same,” said Mrs. Badger. “You’ll see how I’ll tame him down. Give me the stick.”
“Then go if you’re so plaguy obstinate,” said her husband, and it must be confessed that he rather hoped his wife, who had ventured to ridicule him, might herself meet with a reception that would make her change her tune somewhat.
Mrs. Badger, stick in hand, marched up to the door of the attic and called out boldly:
“Open the door, you young villain!”
“How does she know I’m young?” thought Tom Tapley, who was on guard in the room. “Well, now, if she wasn’t such an old woman I should feel flattered. I guess I’ll have to scare her a little. It wouldn’t be polite to tumble her downstairs as I did her husband.”