and go with you and show you that there was nothing there, and could be nothing there, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. Then you would know the truth, and wouldn't have any more fear, and every time that you wakened up frightened, after that, you'd know that there was nothing to be afraid of, and the fright would leave you right off.
"Now, suppose that when you were first frightened, you had gone to some one else instead of your mother, and he had humored you and said:—'Oh, dear me, is there really a tiger under your bed? Isn't that dreadful? We'll have to shoot him.' And then he'd get a gun and fire under the bed and then run back to you and slam the door. And the next morning there would be no tiger there, and you would think that it had been driven away; and your fear would be gone. But the next night you would waken up as before, and be sure that the tiger had come back, and you would run to the person again, in a panic, and it would have to be driven out once more,—and again next week and again next month,—and you would get so that you would be in constant fear of it,—and you would suffer as much as if
