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Everything turned out as Little Thumbling had expected. The ogre awoke at midnight, and regretted having put off till the morning what he might have done the evening before. He, therefore, jumped suddenly out of bed, and seizing his great knife, "Let us go, and see," said he, "how the young rogues are getting on! I will not think twice about it this time." So he stole on tiptoes up to his daughters' bedroom, and went up to the bed in which lay the little boys, who were all asleep except Thumbling, who was dreadfully frightened when the ogre put his hand on his head to feel it, as he had in turn felt those of his brothers. The ogre, feeling the golden crowns, said, "Truly, I was about to do a pretty piece of work! It's plain I drank too much wine last night." He then went to the bed where his daughters slept, and having felt the little nightcaps that belonged to the boys, "Aha!" cried he, "here are our fine young fellows. Let us to work boldly!" So saying, he, without pause, cut the throats of his seven daughters., “No,” said he hastily—and his clear young voice, though emphatic, had a note of childish fear—“no, I don’t want to, Uncle; I don’t want to stay here now that Uncle Isaac is dead”—, “You know that I won’t tell Whitney about your poker playing. What I am going to tell him is that you’re a traitor to the Service.”.