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 happyagain. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon BeckyThatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined hismanner. 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'tyou?"
The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:
"I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'llnever speak to you again."
She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had noteven presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until theright time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in afine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she werea boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presentlyencountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. Shehurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed toBecky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to"take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injuredspelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing AlfredTemple, 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 unsatisfiedambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but povertyhad decreed that he should be nothing higher than a villageschoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk andabsorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He keptthat book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but wasperishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boyand girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no twotheories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts inthe case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near thedoor, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a preciousmoment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instantshe had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody'sANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn theleaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and coloredfrontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fellon the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpseof the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had thehard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrustthe volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying withshame and vexation.
"Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on aperson 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'regoing to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll bewhipped, 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 sheflung out of the house with a new explosion of crying.
Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he saidto 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 sothin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tellold Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of gettingeven on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will askwho it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the wayhe always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to theright girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tellon them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's akind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any wayout of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "Allright, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat itout!"
Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few momentsthe master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a stronginterest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls'side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, hedid not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. Hecould get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presentlythe spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely fullof his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from herlethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. Shedid not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that hespilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial onlyseemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would beglad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but shefound she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had animpulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort andforced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tellabout me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to savehis life!"
Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at allbroken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowinglyupset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--hehad denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuckto the denial from principle.
A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the airwas drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightenedhimself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book,but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of thepupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watchedhis movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absentlyfor 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 rabbitlook as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgothis 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, springthrough the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one littleinstant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tomonly had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no helpfor 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 eventhe 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 stillnesscontinued; 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 theslow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks ofboys--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 tremblingfrom head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness ofthe 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 hisfeet and shouted--"I done it!"
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood amoment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he steppedforward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, theadoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed payenough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his ownact, he took without an outcry the
most merciless flaying that even Mr.Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference theadded cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should bedismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till hiscaptivity 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 forgettingher own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way,soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky'slatest words lingering dreamily in his ear--
"Tom, how COULD you be so noble!"