When they were alone that evening, she told him of the two little boys, and he laughed. “Artful little humbugs,” he said, and supported his argument by so many illustrations of the precocious wickedness of juvenile felons, that his wife was half convinced against her will.
Unfortunately, when Sylvia went away, Tommy and Billy put into execution a plan which they had carried in their poor little heads for some weeks.
“I can do it now,” said Tommy. “I feel strong.”
“Will it hurt much, Tommy?” said Billy, who was not so courageous.
“Not so much as a whipping.”
“I'm afraid! Oh, Tom, it's so deep! Don't leave me, Tom!”
The bigger boy took his little handkerchief from his neck, and with it bound his own left hand to his companion's right.
“Now I can't leave you.”
“What was it the lady that kissed us said, Tommy?”