“You can’t get at me,” said Tom, triumphantly¹.

The old woman grasped the knob of the door and shook it vigorously. But the lock resisted her efforts. Tom’s spirit was up, and she rather enjoyed it.

“Shake away, granny,” she called through the key-hole.

“If I could only get at you!” muttered granny.

“I won’t let you in till you promise not to touch me.”

“I’ll skin you alive.”

“Then you can’t come in.”

The old woman began alternately to pound and kick upon the door. Tom sat down coolly upon a chair, her dark eyes flashing exultingly². She knew 39her power, and meant to keep it. She had not reflected how it was to end. She supposed that in the end she would get a “lickin’,” as she had often done before. But in the mean while she would have the pleasure of defying and keeping the old woman at bay for an indefinite time. So she sat in placid³ enjoyment⁴ in her stronghold until she heard something that suggested a speedy raising of the siege.

“I’m goin’ for a hatchet⁵,” said granny, through the key-hole.

“If you break the door, you’ll have to pay for it.”

“Never you mind!” said the old woman. “I know what I’m about.”

She heard the retreating steps of granny, and, knowing only too well her terrible temper, made up her mind that she was in earnest. If so, the door must soon succumb⁶. A hatchet would soon accomplish what neither kicks nor pounding had been able to effect.

“What shall I do?” thought Tom.

She was afraid of something more than a lickin’ now. In her rage at having been so long baffled, the old woman might attack her with the hatchet. 40She knew very well that on previous occasions she had flung at her head anything she could lay hold of. Tom, brave and stout-hearted as she was, shrunk from this new danger, and set herself to devise a way of escape. She looked out of the window; but she was on the fourth floor, and it was a long distance to the court below. If it had been on the second floor she would have swung off.

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