CHAPTER XX
THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, thatswept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. Hestarted to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at thehead of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without amoment's hesitation he ran to her and said:
"I acted mighty mean today, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, everdo 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'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. She hurledone in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, inher 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'soffensive 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, butpoverty had 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 two theorieswere 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, shenoticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. Sheglanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had thebook in her hands. The titlepage--Professor Somebody's _Anatomy_--carriedno information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came atonce upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure,stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyerstepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Beckysnatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear thepictured 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 personand 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 she flungout 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 inschool! 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 moments themaster arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interestin his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of theroom Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not wantto pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could getup no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently thespelling-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 be gladof that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found shewas not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulseto get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forcedherself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about metearing 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 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--themaster 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 of thesituation.
"Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white withterror]--"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose inappeal]--"did you tear this book?"
A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feetand shouted--"I done it!"
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood amoment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forwardto go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration thatshone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundredfloggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took withoutan outcry
the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had everadministered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of acommand to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for heknew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and notcount the tedious time as loss, either.
Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; forwith shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her owntreachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, topleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest wordslingering dreamily in his ear--
"Tom, how _could_ you be so noble!"