No answer.

     "TOM!"

     No answer.

     "What's gone {with that boy,}  I wonder? You TOM!"

     No answer.

     The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked 

{over them} {about the room;} then she put them up and 

looked out {under them.} She seldom or never looked 

{THROUGH them} {for so small a thing} {as a boy;} 

they were her state pair, the pride {of her heart,} and were 

built {for "style," not service} -- she could have seen {through

a pair} {of stove-lids} just as well. She looked perplexed {for

a moment,} and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough

{for the furniture} to hear:

     "Well, I lay if I get hold {of you} I'll--"

     She did not finish, for {by this time} she was bending 

down and punching {under the bed} {with the broom,} and 

so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She 

resurrected nothing {but the cat.}

     "I never did see the beat {of that boy!"}

     She went {to the open door} and stood {in it} and looked 

out {among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds} that 

constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice {at

an angle} calculated {for distance} and shouted:

     "Y-o-u-u TOM!"

     There was a slight noise {behind her} and she turned just

{in time} to seize a small boy {by the slack} {of his roundabout}

and arrest his flight.

     "There! I might 'a' thought {of that closet.} What you been 

doing {in there?"}

     "Nothing."

     "Nothing! Look {at your hands.}  And look {at your mouth.}

What IS that truck?"

     "I don't know, aunt."

     "Well, I know. It's jam -- that's what it is. Forty times I've

said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that

switch."

     The switch hovered {in the air} -- the peril was desperate --

     "My! Look {behind you,} aunt!"