As it was, she was actually beginning to think that she should like to make Lucy cry by slapping or pinching her, especially as it might vex Tom, whom it was of no use to slap, even if she dared, because he didn't mind it.

And if Lucy hadn't been there, Maggie was sure he would have got friends with her sooner.
Tickling a fat toad who is not highly sensitive is an amusement that it is possible to exhaust, and Tom by and by began to look round for some other mode of passing the time.

But in so prim a garden, where they were not to go off the paved walks, there was not a great choice of sport.

The only great pleasure such a restriction suggested was the pleasure of breaking it, and Tom began to meditate an insurrectionary visit to the pond, about a field's length beyond the garden.
"I say, Lucy," he began, nodding his head up and down with great significance, as he coiled up his string again, "what do you think I mean to do ?" "What, Tom ?" said Lucy, with curiosity.
"I mean to go to the pond and look at the pike.

You may go with me if you like," said the young sultan.
"Oh, Tom, _dare_ you ?" said Lucy.