“What shall I do?” he thought.
A bright idea came to him.
In his trunk were two boxes of torpedoes which he had saved over from the last Fourth of July. These he took, two or three at a time, and struck against the uncarpeted floor, producing the series of noises which startled his guardians.
“I guess that’ll bring ’em up,” thought Tom.
In anticipation of a visit he had slipped on his pants.
Presently he heard a tapping at the door, but at first he took no notice of it, but kept on firing the torpedoes.
“Can’t you knock louder, Mr. Middleton?” said his wife impatiently, and she herself rigorously pounced the door.
“I guess I’ll let ’em in,” said Tom to himself.
He accordingly opened the door and stared at his visitors in a vacant manner.
“What’s the matter? Is it morning?” he asked, with the air of one who had just waked up.