"Yes," cried my mother, "and he's gone away with it on his conscience, that's some comfort. He won't come back in a hurry; he thinks he has committed murder, the unfeeling brute! Well, I've had my revenge." And as she twisted up her hair, my mother burst out screaming: "Little Bopeep, she lost her sheep. And couldn't tell where to find him; She found him, indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For he left his tail behind him." "Why, then, doctor, it was all sham," exclaimed I. "Yes; and the doctor's come on a fool's errand-- "'Goosey, Goosey Gander, Whither dost thou wander? Upstairs and downstairs, And in a lady's chamber.'" The doctor shrugged up his shoulders so that his head disappeared between them. At last he said, "Your mother don't want me, Jack, that's very clear. Good-morning, Mrs. Saunders." "A very good-morning to you, Dr. Tadpole," replied my mother with a profound courtesy; "you'll oblige me by quitting this room and shutting the door after you, if you please." As the doctor and I went down, my mother continued the song-- "And then I met a little man, Couldn't say his prayers, I took him by the left leg And sent him downstairs." As soon as we were in the parlor, I acquainted the doctor with what had happened. "I'm sure I thought she was dead," said I, when I had finished the story. "Jack, when I asked you where your mother was bad, external or internal, you replied both, and a great deal more besides. So she is--internally, externally, and infernally bad," said the doctor, laughing. "And so she amputated your father's pigtail, did she, the Delilah? Pity one could not amputate her head, it would make a good woman of her. Good-by, Jack; I must go and look after Tom, he's swallowed a whole yard of stick-liquorice by this time."