The clock struck six!
You watched Mother out of the corners of your eyes. Had she forgotten?
"Mother," you said, engagingly. "See me stand on one leg."
"Mother does not care to look at naughty little boys."
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock."
You were very little to punish. Besides, you were not feeling very well. It was not your tummy, nor your head, nor yet the pussy-scratch on your finger. It was a deeper pain.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock."
If you should die like the Jones boy's little brother and be put in the cemetery on the hill, they would be sorry.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock."
Mother went to the window and peered out.