The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth ?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again.

Open your mouth.
Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that.
Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out.

It don't hurt any more.

I wish I may never stir if it does.

Please don't, auntie.