morning, noon
I liked him ever so much , though he used to tease me horribly , and put horn-bugs in my shoes , and worms on my neck , and Jack-o ' - lanterns in my room , and tip me off his sled into the snow ; but still I liked him , for with all his teasing he had a great , kind , unselfish heart , and I shall never forget that look on his face when I told him I could not be his wife . I did not like him as he liked me , and I did not want to be married anyway , and if I did marry it must be to some rich man . That was in Chicago , and the night before he started for South America , where he was going to make his fortune , and he wanted me to promise to wait for him , and said no one would ever love me as well as he did . I could not promise , because , even if he had all the gold mines in Peru , I did not care to spend my days with him -- to see him morning , noon , and night , and all the time . It is a good deal to ask of a woman , and I told him so , and he cried so hard -- not loud , but in a pitiful kind of way , which hurt me cruelly . I hear that sobbing sometimes now in my sleep , and it 's like the moan of the wind round that house on the prairie where Tom 's mother died . Poor Tom !