Daddy went to look at his trap, switching on the light in Tommy's room. He came back in a minute.

"The little devil!"

Did Daddy know? No.

"The little devil got away with the bait, clean as a whistle. Only a little plaster dust or something left in the trap where I put the meat."

Mr. Bear shivered. "Now don't be foolish, Bear. You don't have blood. The Ugly Thing won't get you," Tommy told him softly. But Mr. Bear wouldn't listen. He was a cry-baby, a scaredy-cat. But to tell the truth—the real, honest truth—the whole family and even Tommy didn't feel too good about it.

"Tommy? What was that you were saying?"

"Daddy! I wanna sleep with you and Momma. Me and my family. We're scared of that Thing." Tommy knew it was no less than his duty to protect them all.

"Oh, now, Tommy! You don't mean to say you're afraid of a little old mouse? A big boy like you?"

"Well, Mr. Bear is—I don't—Daddy! It is there, honest it is, in that hole and it's hungry and it'll come out in the dark and—"

"Tommy! A little mouse! Get on into your room now and no more argument."

Tommy's face began to crumple. If he had to, he would fight this one out all the way—tears, tantrum, kick, scream, gasp, hold his breath and turn blue—

"Now, now, Tommy-boy." Daddy did mean well and sometimes he was even right and so Tommy always did try to do what Daddy said. "Tommy, you mustn't let things like that bother you. If we can't catch the little mouse, forget it. There's nothing more we can do, so just don't think about it. You see?"

Sniff. "No."

"Don't think about it, that's all. There is nothing there that can hurt you, if you just don't think about it. So don't think about it—that's Daddy's big boy."

"Well-ll.... And then can we sleep with you and Momma?"

Aunt Martha rang in her nickel's worth. "A boy ought to be ashamed to be afraid of a little mouse."

"It's not—"

"Not what?"

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