So saying he seized the poor piece of wood and commenced beating it without mercy against the walls of the room.
Then he stopped to listen if he could hear any little voice lamenting. He waited two minutes—nothing; five minutes-nothing; ten minutes—still nothing!
"I see how it is," he then said, forcing himself to laugh and pushing up his wig; "evidently, the little voice that said 'Oh! oh!' was all my imagination! Let us to work again."
But all the same he was in a great fright; he tried to sing to give himself a little courage.
Putting the axe aside he took his plane to plane and polish [page 396] the bit of wood; but whilst he was running it up and down he heard the same little voice say, laughing:
"Have done! you are tickling me all over!"
This time poor Master Cherry fell down as if he had been struck by lightning. When he at last opened his eyes he found himself seated on the floor.
His face was quite changed; even the end of his nose, instead of being crimson, as it was nearly always, had become blue from fright.