Tommy and his
family, nap safely forgotten, played away the afternoon--but not in the
closet or even, as was usual on rainy days, in Tommy's room. Instead,
finding Daddy's old briefcase full of papers, they played office in the
family room, with Old Rabbit grumbling about having to be Miss Wicksey,
who drove the electric typewriter in Daddy's office. Momma and Daddy came home together at a bit after five. Tommy took his
scolding about messing up Daddy's papers in good part. He had expected
it. But Aunt Martha was angry about the scolding she got for letting
him, mild though it was. In retaliation, she said, "Tommy, you were a naughty, naughty boy. And for being so naughty you must take your big bear and your rabbit
and the little bear or whatever the thing is and put them away in the
closet. And leave them there till tomorrow." "No! No, no, no, I won't! It isn't fair. They weren't bad. And the Ugly
Thing is in the hole and it might come out and it's hungry and--and my
family is all afraid." "Tommy!" Aunt Martha's voice was sharp. "You stop that nonsense and put
your toys--"

"Wait. Wait up now," said Daddy, who also lived in the grown-up world,
but who sometimes tried to understand things. "What is this about a
hole in the closet? What about something being hungry?" "That's all," said Tommy. "The Ugly Thing in the hole in the closet. It
_is_ hungry." There was more to it than that, of course, but how could a thing like
that be explained through a wall of grown, closed minds? There was
the hole in the closet. You couldn't exactly see it. You could only
sort of feel seeing it and the hairy Thing--at least it seemed hairy
and shapeless, or having many different shapes and a mouth and sharp
teeth--and it had reached out with something and touched Mr. Bear and
would have eaten him too, if he had blood. But then it had pulled back
from Mr. Bear and red hunger thoughts came stronger and stronger. Even
now, stretching out from the hole where it was hidden there in the
closet, Tommy could feel the reaching, greedy thoughts. But he couldn't
explain all that. "There is a hole in the closet," Tommy said again. *       *       *       *       *

But he knew that not even Daddy would understand. Of course Momma
wouldn't. Not Momma, who was loving but very busy and just sat so
often, dreaming or listening to baby sister that they said was in her
stomach, so big and fat now as to leave little lap room. Momma was
too occupied looking inward to look out much at Tommy. Daddy, to give
him credit, was nearly always willing to look, but there were so many
things he couldn't see. Still Tommy had to try. "The Ugly Thing in the hole. It wants something to eat." "Oh, Tommy! Such horrible nonsense!" That was Momma. She wasn't even
going to think about it. It is a question sometimes whether baby
sisters are worth all the bother and trouble. "Now, Tommy." Daddy was being helpful. "You say there is a hole in your
closet? And that there is something in the hole?" "Well-ll. Sort of." Really, the Ugly Thing wasn't so much in the hole
as on the other side of it. But that was close enough. "All right then, Tommy. Suppose you show it to me." "What?" "Show me the hole, Tommy." "Now?" "Yes." "The hole in the closet?" "Tommy!" "Yes, Daddy." This wasn't going to work out to anything good and Tommy
didn't want to go back to the closet and close the closet door anyway. The Thing didn't eat Mr. Bear because Mr. Bear didn't have blood. But
Daddy had and ... "Tommy!" They went to the closet. At least, if he was risking a Daddy, Tommy
thought, he was protecting Mr. Bear and the others. "Now where is this hole, Tommy?" "Over there by the corner." Tommy pointed. Daddy went into the closet to look. Tommy started to close the door. In
the black dark, Daddy would see what Tommy meant about the Thing in the
hole. From the outside, Tommy started to close the door. It was a small
closet and hardly big enough for both of them. "Tommy! What are you trying to do? Open that door." "But--" After all, the hole wasn't there, or scarcely seemed to be
there, except in the dark. "Open it up wider. Hm-m. I believe I do see. Wait till I get my
lighter.... Say, by George, I believe you're right. There _is_ a little
hole there. Looks like a mouse hole." There it was, as Tommy might have known. Grown-ups will always avoid
seeing the important things. Of course there was a mouse hole there,
the home of the little old Mr. Mouse with the wiggly nose and the gray
whiskers. He had been nice. But he wasn't there any more and Tommy had
a pretty clear idea of what had happened to him. That poor little old
Mr. Mouse had had blood. "But, Daddy--"

It was hopeless. "Dorrie! Martha!" Daddy's hunting instinct was
aroused. "Have we got a mouse trap? Any cheese? There is a hole in that
closet, a little old mouse hole and I'm going to--"

Well, perhaps this would be better than if he hadn't found anything. Tommy followed Daddy about as he finally located a mouse trap. No
cheese? He cut a little piece of meat for bait. Of course Tommy knew no
trap would catch the Ugly Thing. "What in the world happened to my lighter?" Daddy wanted to know. Tommy
didn't answer that. But at least everybody, even Aunt Martha, had
forgotten about shutting Tommy's family up in the closet. For now that
was enough. But later, after supper, after bath, after the shooting picture on the
TV, it was time for bed. "Daddy?" "Get on to bed now, son. Past bedtime. Hop to it." "Daddy, I want to sleep with you and Momma tonight." *       *       *       *       *

Well, it was a mighty dark night. The afternoon rain had built up into
a real storm. Mr. Bear was terrified. Kokey was scared and even tough
Old Rabbit didn't want to sleep in Tommy's room with the Ugly Thing in
the hole so hungry and waiting to rip its way out of the hole when it
got dark enough--and only the street light outside the room to keep
away the dark because they would never let Tommy keep his light on at
night. "My family and me don't want to sleep in my room tonight." "Now, Tommy, just because it's a little stormy--Daddy's big boy isn't
afraid of a little wind and rain?" "I'm not afraid, Daddy. It's my family. You know how families are. You
always say about Momma--"

"Never mind that now. To bed. Your own bed." "But Daddy, there's the Ugly Thing in the hole! And it's hungry!" "The mouse?" 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!