“I’ll give you a shaking, you young imp,” said Sarah. “You’ve broke my comb.”
She picked up the comb, and dashed round the bed after Tom, who, seeing no other way for escape, sprang upon the bed, where she remained standing.
“Come down from there,” demanded Sarah.
“Let me alone, then!”
“I’ll tell the missis, just as sure as you live!”
“What’ll she do? Will she lick me?”
“You’ll see.”
This would not have checked Tom, but it occurred to her, all at once, that her freak would be reported to the captain, and might displease him.
“I’ll stop,” said she. “I was only in fun.”
By this time, Sarah had ascertained that the comb was not broken, after all, and this made her more inclined to overlook Tom’s offence.