Seeing that her troops appeared to be exhausted, and that a period of repose had set in, the tall nurse thought this a fitting opportunity to retire for a short recreative talk with the servants in the kitchen.
“Now be good, child’n,” she said, in passing out, “and don’t ’urt poor little Dumps.”
“Oh no,” chorused the five, while, with faces of intense and real solemnity, they assured nurse that they would not hurt Dumps for the world.
“We’ll be so dood!” remarked Dolly, as the door closed—and she really meant it.
“What’ll we do to him now?” asked Harry, whose patience was exhausted.
“Tut off him’s head,” cried Dolly, clapping her fat little hands.
“No, burn him for a witch,” said Jenny.
“Oh no! ve’ll skeese him flat till he’s bu’sted,” suggested Job.
But Jenny thought that would be too cruel, and Harry said it would be too tame.
It must not be supposed that these and several other appalling tortures were meant to be really attempted. As Job afterwards said, it was only play.