"I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her-"
But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone.
Sid flew downstairs and said:
"Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!"
"Dying!"
"Yes'm. Don't wait-come quick!"
"Rubbage! I don't believe it!"
But she fled upstairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out:
"You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?"
"Oh, auntie, I'm-"