ing about this when Tom suddenly reached for his
hat, which he had placed by his side. "Perhaps we'd better be getting
along," he said, "without waiting to tell her good-by. After all,
there's no telling when she'll be here."

Everychild did not like to go without having seen Old Mother Hubbard;
but there seemed no way to suggest this, and he was just rising to his
feet when there was a bustling sound outside the door.

"She's coming now," said Tom in a whisper. "She'll be here right
away." He was dreadfully uneasy. He added in a tone of apology, "Just
make the best of it, won't you, if she's ugly? It will blow over in a
minute or two."

And then the front door was opened briskly and Old Mother Hubbard
entered the room.

CHAPTER XIII

A TERRIBLE LADY AT HOME

She came into the room in the manner of one who was about to say,
"Fellow-citizens!" But she said nothing just at first. She took a few
steps further, walking as if she expected to have a badge pinned on
her, or to receive a prize. She had a double chin; and when she began
to speak, which she did a moment later, it developed that she had a
deep baritone voice.

Her first words were: "Away with you!"

They were for the little black dog, who had rushed toward her with
swaying tail.

Then she saw her son and Everychild. _She sniffed as if there were a
fire somewhere as she said to her son, "And who is this, pray?"_

[Illustration: She sniffed as if there were a fire somewhere.]

Everychild would have felt almost alarmed but for the fact that
something extraordinary occurred just then. The Masked Lady entered
the room and stood just inside the door. Still more remarkable, Mr.
Literal appeared just behind her.

"This," replied Tom to his mother, "is--is a boy who came home with me."

"Is it, indeed!" exclaimed Old Mother Hubbard icily. She added, "What
I meant to inquire was. What is his name?"

Tom was blushing. "His name is Everychild, mother," he said, "and
he's----"

Old Mother Hubbard had removed her bonnet, which was a little affair of
black velvet and jet ornaments. She touched her hair with her finger
tips here and there. "I might have known as much!" she said.
"Everychild! And I suppose you think it is quite right for Everychild
to come tagging home after you, making work for other people?"

Tom cried out forlornly, "Oh, mother . . ."

As for Everychild, he was thinking--"She'll never let him go!" He was
standing