The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair; the pride of her heart; and were built for ‘style;’ not service — she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment; and then said; not fiercely; but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:rnrn‘Well; I lay if I get hold of you I’ll —‘rnrnShe 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.rnrn‘I never did see the beat of that boy!’rn