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."