Everychild would have felt almost alarmed but for the fact that something extraordinary occurred just then. The Masked Lady entered the room and stood just inside the door. Still more remarkable, Mr. Literal appeared just behind her.
"This," replied Tom to his mother, "is—is a boy who came home with me."
"Is it, indeed!" exclaimed Old Mother Hubbard icily. She added, "What I meant to inquire was. What is his name?"
Tom was blushing. "His name is Everychild, mother," he said, "and he's——"
Old Mother Hubbard had removed her bonnet, which was a little affair of black velvet and jet ornaments. She touched her hair with her finger tips here and there. "I might have known as much!" she said. "Everychild! And I suppose you think it is quite right for Everychild to come tagging home after you, making work for other people?"
Tom cried out forlornly, "Oh, mother …"
As for Everychild, he was thinking—"She'll never let him go!" He was standing with one foot on top of the other in a very uncomfortable manner. Still, he was trying to smile, as if to convey the idea that Old Mother Hubbard must be joking, of course.
But the old lady continued severely: "I've warned you before. You ought to know by this time that a house is a—a house."
Here Everychild managed to say, "I'll not be a bit of trouble, Mother Hubbard, and—and I'm very glad to meet you."
She stared at him as if she were really seeing him for the first time. But her temper broke forth again. "Don't tell me!" she exclaimed. "I know what boys are. You'll not deny, I suppose, that you get ravenously hungry three times a day?"