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"
No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody."
But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this
"
way?"
"Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me."
"
Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my
flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?"
"I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done
to me. When I'm gone--"
"
Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--"
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 down-stairs and said:
"Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!"
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