THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER 10 страница

--pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. " Oh, you do, do you? You

holler 'nough, 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 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.

CHAPTER XIX

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 Sereny 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 you could let me go to Sereny 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 wish 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 couldn't ever think

to pity us and save us from sorrow. "

" Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean 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

drownded. "

" 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 and 'deed I did, auntie--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, auntie; 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 had 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, auntie--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 any more. "

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's 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

goodheartedness in him 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 the

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 flowing tears and saying: " I could forgive the

boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins! "

CHAPTER XX

THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom,

that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted 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 ever I live--please make up, won't

you? "

The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:

" I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. 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 lingering notion of exposing 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, Mr. 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 a glimpse

of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the

hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust

the volume 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 oh, 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 licking! That's just like a girl--they're 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 tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way

he always does--ask first one and 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 just such a fix--let her sweat it

out! "

Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments

the master arrived and school " took in. " Tom did not feel a strong

interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls'

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 exultation 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 picture 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, Mr. Dobbins straightened

himself up, yawned, 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 were two among them that watched

his movements with intent eyes. Mr. 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 levelled 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 under 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.

" Gracie 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 the 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 Mr.

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! "

CHAPTER XXI

VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew

severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a

good showing on " Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom

idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and

young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins'

lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under

his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle

age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great

day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he

seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least

shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their

days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They

threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept

ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful

success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from

the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a

plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's

boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons

for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and

had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go

on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to

interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great

occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy

said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on

Examination Evening he would " manage the thing" while he napped in his

chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried

away to school.

In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in

the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with

wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in

his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him.

He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and

six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town

and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of

citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the

scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of

small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort;

rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in

lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their

grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and

the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with

non-participating scholars.

The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly

recited, " You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the

stage, " etc. --accompanying himself with the painfully exact and

spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the

machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though

cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his

manufactured bow and retired.

A little shamefaced girl lisped, " Mary had a little lamb, " etc.,

performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and

sat down flushed and happy.

Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into

the unquenchable and indestructible " Give me liberty or give me death"

speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the

middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under

him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the

house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than

its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom

struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak

attempt at applause, but it died early.

" The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also " The Assyrian Came

Down, " and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises,

and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The

prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original " compositions"

by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of

the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with

dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to

" expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been

illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their

grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line

clear back to the Crusades. " Friendship" was one; " Memories of Other

Days"; " Religion in History"; " Dream Land"; " The Advantages of

Culture"; " Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted";

" Melancholy"; " Filial Love"; " Heart Longings, " etc., etc.

A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted

melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of " fine language";

another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words

and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that

conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable

sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one

of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort

was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and

religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring

insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the

banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient

to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps.

There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel

obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find

that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in

the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But

enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable.

Let us return to the " Examination. " The first composition that was

read was one entitled " Is this, then, Life? " Perhaps the reader can

endure an extract from it:

" In the common walks of life, with what delightful

emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some

anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy

sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the

voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the

festive throng, 'the observed of all observers. ' Her

graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling

through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is

brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly.

" In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by,

and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into

the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright

dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to

her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming

than the last. But after a while she finds that

beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the

flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates

harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its

charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart,

she turns away with the conviction that earthly

pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul! "

And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to

time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of " How

sweet! " " How eloquent! " " So true! " etc., and after the thing had closed

with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic.

Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the " interesting"

paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a " poem. " Two

stanzas of it will do:

" A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA

" Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well!

But yet for a while do I leave thee now!

Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell,

And burning recollections throng my brow!

For I have wandered through thy flowery woods;

Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream;

Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods,

And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.

" Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart,

Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes;

'Tis from no stranger land I now must part,

'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs.

Welcome and home were mine within this State,

Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me

And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete,

When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee! "

There were very few there who knew what " tete" meant, but the poem was

very satisfactory, nevertheless.

Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young

lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and

began to read in a measured, solemn tone:

" A VISION

" Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the

throne on high not a single star quivered; but

the deep intonations of the heavy thunder

constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the