“Can’t you see?” said Tom.
“Why didn’t you come downstairs?”
“’Cause granny’s there waitin’ to lick me. I must be goin’ before she finds out where I am. Don’t you tell of me, Tim.”
“No, I won’t,” said Tim; and he was sure to keep his promise.
Tom sped through the arched passage to the street, and did not rest till she had got a mile away from the home which had so few attractions for her.
Beyond the chance of immediate danger, the young Arab conjured up the vision of granny’s disappointment when she should break open the door, and find her gone; and she sat down on the curbstone and laughed heartily.
“What are you laughing at?” asked a boy, looking curiously at the strange figure before him.
“Oh, it’s too rich!” said Tom, pausing a little, and then breaking out anew.
“What’s too rich?”
“I’ve run away from granny. She wanted to lick me, and now she can’t.”