Latest / Classic Adventure Books Library / 09 - The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain
Transcript
- In chapter eighteen, Tom reveals his dream secret. That was Tom's great secret, the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village. They had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk in the course of it. Aunt Polly said, well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering most a week. So you boys had a good time, But it is a pity you could be so hard hearted as to let me suffer. So if you could have come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you weren't dead, but only run off. Yes, you could have done that, Tom said, Mary, and I believe you would if you had thought of it? Would you, Tom? Said Aunt Polly, her face lightning wistfully, say, now, would you if you'd thought of it? I well, I don't know. Twould have spoiled everything? Tom. I hoped you loved me that much, said Aunt Polly with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. It would have been something if you'd cared enough to think of it, even if you didn't do it. Now, Auntie, that ain't any harm, pleaded Mary. It's only Tom's giddy way. He's always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything. More's the pity Sid would have thought, and Sid would have come and done it too. Tom, you'll look back some day when it's too late and wish you'd cared a little more for me, when it would have cost you so little. Now, Auntie, you know I do care for you, said Tom. I'd know it better if you acted more like it. I wish now i'd thought, said Tom, with a repentant tone. But I dreamed about you anyway. That's something, ain't it. It ain't much A cat does that much, but it's better than nothing. What did you dream? Why? Wednesday night, I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the wood box, and Mary next to him. Well, so we did, so we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us. And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here. Why she was here? Did you dream any more? Oh? Lots? But it's so dim now. Well, try to recollect, can't you. Somehow it seems to me that the wind, the wind blowed the the try harder, Tom, the wind did blow something. Come. Tom pressed his fingers to his forehead an anxious minute, and then said, I've got it. Now, I've got it now, it'd blowed the candle. Mercy on us. Go on, Tom, go on. And it seems to me that you said, why I believe that that door? Go on, Tom, just let me study a moment, just a moment. Oh, yes, you said you believed the door was open, as I'm sitting here, I did, didn't I marry? Go on? And then and then well, I won't be certain, but it seems like because if you made Sid go and and well, well, what did I make him do? Tom? What did I make him do? You made him you, oh, you made him shut it well, for Land's sake, I never heard the beat of that in all my days. Don't tell me there ain't anything in dreams anymore. Serenity Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around this with her rubbage about superstition. Go on, Tom, Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day now. Next you said, I warn't bad, only mischievous and harum scarum, and not any more responsible than then. I think it was a cold or something, and so it was, well, goodness, gracious, go on, Tom. And then you began to cry. So I did so I did not the first time neither and then or then missus Harper she began to cry and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd thrown it out of her own self. Tom, the spirit was upon you. You was a prophesying, that's what she was a doing. Let alive, go on, Tom. Well, then Sid, he said, he said, Well, I don't think I said anything, said Sid, Yes you did, Sid said, Mary, shut your heads and let Tom go. What did he say, Tom, he said. I think he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes there to hear that. It was his very words, and you shut him up sharp, I lay, I did, there must have been an angel there. There was an angel there somewheres. And Missus Harper told about Joe Scarce bring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the painkiller, just as true as I live. And then there was a whole lot of talk about dragging the river for us, and about having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went, it happened just so, It happened, just so as sure as I'm sitting in these very tracks, Tom, you couldn't have told it more like if you'd have seen it. And then what go on? Tom? Then I thought you prayed for me, and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark we ain't dead, we were only off being pirates, and put it on the table by the candle. And then you looked so good laying there asleep that I thought. I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips. Did you, Tom? Did you? I just forgive you everything for that? And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. It was very kind, even though it was only a dream, said soliloquies. Just audibly, shut up, Sid, A body does just the same and a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again. Now go long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back. That's long suffering and merciful to them that believe on him and keep his word, though Goodness knows I'm unworthy of it. But if only the worthy ones got his blessings and had his hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into his rest when the long night comes. Go along, Sid, Mary, Tom, take yourselves off. You've hindered me long enough. The children left for school, and the old lady to call on missus Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvelous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this pretty thin, as long as a dream as that, without any mistakes in it. What a hero Tom was become. Now he did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger, as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him, and indeed it was. He tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all, but they were consuming with envy. Nevertheless, they would have given anything to have had that swarthy, sun tanned skin of his and his glittering notoriety, and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school, the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably stuck up. They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners, but they only began it was not a thing likely to have an end with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher. Now glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished. Maybe she would be wanting to make up well, letter she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived, Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gaily back and forth, with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture. But he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction. At such times too, it gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him, and so instead of winning him, it only set him up the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently, she gave over skylarking and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice, and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy. At once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous and carried her to the group. Instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow, with sham vivacity, Why Mary Austin, you bad girl? Why didn't you come to Sunday School? I did come. Didn't you see me? Why no? Did you? Where did you sit? I was in Miss Peter's class, where I always go? I saw you? Did you? Why it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic. Oh that's jolly, who's going to give it? My Ma's going to let me have one? Oh, Goody. I hope she'll let me come. Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you. That's ever so nice. When is it going to be by and bye? Maybe about vacation? Oh? Won't it be fun? You going to have all the girls and boys? Yes, everyone that's friends to me or wants to be. And she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, But he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree all to flinders while he was standing within three feet of it. Oh may I come, said Gracie Miller. Yes, and me said Sally Rogers. Yes, and me too, said Susie Harper. And Joe Yes, and so on, with clapping of joyful hands, till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes. She hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on un chattering. But the life had gone out of the picnic now, and out of everything else. She got away as soon as she could, and hid herself and had what her sex call a good cry. Then she sat moody with wounded pride till the bell rang. She roused up now with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake, and said she knew what she'd do. At recess. Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self satisfaction, and he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cozily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse, looking at a picture book with Alfred Temple, and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides Jealousy ran red hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along as they walked for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly, he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse again and again to sear his eyeballs with a hateful spectacle. There he could not help it, and it maddened him to see as he thought he saw that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless, and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to, things that must be done, and time was fleeting, but in vain the girl chirped on. Tom thought, oh, hang her, Ain't I ever going to get rid of her? At last? He must be attending to those things. And she said artlessly that she would be round when school left out, and he hastened away, hating her for it. Any other boy, Tom thought, grating his teeth, any boy in the whole town. But that Saint Louis Smarty, that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy. Oh all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again. You just wait till I catch you out. I'll just take and and he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy, pummeling the air and kicking and gouging. Oh you do, do you? You holler enough? Do you? Now? Then let that learn you? And so the imaginary flogging was finished. To his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud, and she lost interest. Gravity and absent mindedness followed, and then melancholy. Two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope. No Tom came at last. She grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming, Oh, here's a jolly one, look at this. She lost patience at last and said, oh, don't bother me. I don't care for them, and burst into tears and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said, go away and leave me alone, can't you? I hate you. So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning, and she walked on crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth. The girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite. Upon Tom's sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less. When this thought occurred to him, he wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act and moved on without discovering herself. She started homeward, now intending to find Tom and tell him Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling book's account, and to hate him forever into the bargain. End of chapter eighteen, Chapter nineteen, The cruelty of I didn't think. Tom arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market. Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive, Auntie. What have I done? Well? You've done enough here. I go over to Serenity Harper like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream. When lo and behold you. She'd found out from Joe that you was over here, and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think that you could let me go to Serenity Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word. This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby. Now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said, Auntie, I wished I hadn't done it, But I didn't think. Oh child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream, but you could never think to pity us and save us from sorrow. Addie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean it to be mean. I didn't honest, And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night. What did you come for then? It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us because we hadn't got drowned, Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that. But you know you never did, and I know it, Tom, Indeed, indeed I did. Addie, I wish I may never stir if I didn't. Oh, Tom, don't lie. Don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse. It ain't a lie, Attie, it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving. That was all that made me come. I'd give the whole world to believe that. It would cover up a power of sins. Tom, I'd most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable, because why didn't you tell me? Child? Why you see? When you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum, what bark the bark I wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish now you'd waked up when I kissed you, I do honest. The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed, and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. Did you kiss me, Tom? Why? Yes I did. Are you sure you did, Tom? Why? Yes, I did? Aunt, he's certain sure? What did you kiss me for? Tom? Because I loved you so and you laid there moaning, and I was so sorry. The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said, kiss me again, Tom, and be off with you to school now, and don't bother me anymore. The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped with it in her hand and said to herself, No, I don't dare poor boy. I reckon he'd lied about it. But it's a blessed, blessed lie. There's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord. I know the Lord will forgive him because it was such good heartedness and in to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look. She put the jacket away and stood by, musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with a thought, it's a good lie. It's a good lie. I won't let it grieve me, so she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later, she was reading Tom's piece of bark through the flowing tears and saying, I forgive the boy now if he'd committed a million sins. End of chapter nineteen. Chapter twenty, Tom takes Becky's punishment. There was something about Aunt Polly's manner when she kissed Tom that swept away his low spirits and made him light hearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran to her and said, I acted mighty mean to day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever ever do that way again as long as I ever live. Please make up, won't you? The girl stopped and looked at him, scornfully in the face. I'll thank you to keep yourself to yourself, mister Thomas sawyer, I'll never speak to you again. She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say who cares, miss Smarty, until the right time to say it had gone by, so he said nothing, But he was in a fine rage. Nevertheless, he moped into the schoolyard, wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to take in. She was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling book. If she had had any ling dering notion of exposing to Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master mister Dobbins had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it. At times when no classes were reciting, he kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school, but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, But the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book, but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock. It was a precious moment. She glanced around, found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title page, Professor Somebody's Anatomy, carried no information to her mind, so she began to turn the leaves she came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece a human figure stark naked. At that moment, a shadow fell on the page, and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught the glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it and had the hard luck to tear the pictured plate half down the middle. She thrust the volumes into the desk, turned the key, and burst out, crying with shame and vexation. Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at? How could I know you was looking at anything? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer, you know you're going to tell on me and I I what shall I do? What shall I do? I'll be whipped and I never was whipped in school. Then she stamped her little foot and said, be so mean. If you want to I know something that's going to happen you just wait and you'll see hateful, hateful, hateful, And she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently, he said to himself, what a curious kind of a fool? A girl is never been licked in school? Shucks? What's a lickin' that's just like a girl there's so thin skinned and chicken hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell Old Dobbins on this little fool. Because there's other ways of getting even on her that ain't so mean. But what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was toward his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does. Ask first one, then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl, he'll know it without any telling. Girls faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it. Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added, all right, though she'd like to see me in such a fix, let her sweat it out. Tom joined a mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments, the master arrived in school took in. Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girl's side of the room, Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exaltation that was really worthy the name. Presently, the spelling book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters. For a while. After that, Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself, and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still, because, said she to herself, he'll tell about me tearing the book. Sure, I wouldn't say a word. Not to save his life. Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat, not at all broken hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling book himself in some skylarking bout. He had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by. The Master sat nodding in his throne. The air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by. Mister Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, and then unlocked his desk and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there was two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mister Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read. Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun leveled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her quick Something must be done done in a flash, too, But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good. He had an inspiration he would run and snatch the book, spring through the door, and fly, But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost. The Master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again too late, there was no help for Becky, now, he said. The next moment, the Master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten. The Master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke, who tore this book? There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued. The Master searched face after face for signs of guilt. Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book? A denial? Another pause? Joseph Harper did you Another denial? Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense unto the slow torture of these proceedings. The Master scanned the ranks of boys, considered a while, then turned to the girls. Amy Lawrence, a shake of the head, gra C. Miller the same sign Susan Harper, did you do this? Another negative? The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of hopelessness of the situation. Rebecca Thatcher. Tom glanced at her face. It was white with terror. Did you tear no? Look me in the face? Her hands rose in appeal. Did you tear this book. A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted, I done it. The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment to gather his dismembered faculties, and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment, the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry, the most merciless flaying that even mister Dobbins had ever administered, and also received with indifference. The added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed, for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple, for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all not forgetting her own treachery. But even the longing for vengeance had to give way soon to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words, lingering dreamily in his ear, Tom, how could you be so noble? End of Chapter twenty