Banging blows on the head, hair pulled, clothes roughly dragged about, Miss Dolly was taking her vengeance on Tommy for all the cruel tricks he had played her. What strong arms she had, and she hit him with a hair brush until her arms ran down with sawdust, which never happens, you know, unless a doll is quite worn out and exhuasted. Just as Dolly was going to put Tommy’s eyes out with the nursery scissors, he sprang away with a cry and crept into the parrot’s cage, where he sat quietly for a time, too weary to speak.
