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"There!
I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing!
Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?"
"I
don't know, aunt."
"Well,
I know. It's jam -- that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't
let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch."
The
switch hovered in the air -- the peril was desperate --
"My!
Look behind you, aunt!"
The
old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad
fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared
over it.
His
aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh.
"Hang
the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough
like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is
the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the
saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how
is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can
torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to
put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't
hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's
truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book
says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of
the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing,
and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off,
my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most
breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of
trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey
this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just
be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard
to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he
hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my
duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."
Tom
did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in
season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split
the kindlings before supper -- at least he was there in time to tell his
adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger
brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of
the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no
adventurous, troublesome ways.
While
Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt
Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep -- for
she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other
simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed
with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to
contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said
she:
"Tom,
it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Powerful
warm, warn't it?"
"Yes'm."
"Didn't
you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?"
A
bit of a scare shot through Tom -- a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He
searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said:
"No'm
-- well, not very much."
The
old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said:
"But
you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that
she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that
that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the
wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:
"Some
of us pumped on our heads -- mine's damp yet. See?"
Aunt
Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial
evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration:
"Tom,
you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on
your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!"
The
trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar
was securely sewed.
"Bother!
Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been
a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat,
as the saying is -- better'n you look. THIS time."
She
was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had
stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But
Sidney said:
"Well,
now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's
black."
"Why,
I did sew it with white! Tom!"
But
Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:
"Siddy,
I'll lick you for that."
In
a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the
lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them -- one needle
carried white thread and the other black. He said:
"She'd
never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews
it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy
she'd stick to one or t'other -- I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet
you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!"
He
was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well
though -- and loathed him.
Within
two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because
his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are
to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove
them out of his mind for the time -- just as men's misfortunes are
forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a
valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and
he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar
bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue
to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music --
the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy.
Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down
the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude.
He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet -- no
doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the
advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.
The
summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his
whistle. A stranger was before him -- a boy a shade larger than himself. A
new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor
little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too --
well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a
dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty,
and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on -- and it was only Friday. He
even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about
him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid
marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier
and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If
one moved, the other moved -- but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept
face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:
"I
can lick you!"
"I'd
like to see you try it."
"Well,
I can do it."
"No
you can't, either."
"Yes
I can."
"No
you can't."
"I
can."
"You
can't."
"Can!"
"Can't!"
An
uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
"What's
your name?"
"'Tisn't
any of your business, maybe."
"Well
I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."
"Well
why don't you?"
"If
you say much, I will."
"Much
-- much -- MUCH. There now."
"Oh,
you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand
tied behind me, if I wanted to."
"Well
why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."
"Well
I WILL, if you fool with me."
"Oh
yes -- I've seen whole families in the same fix."
"Smarty!
You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!"
"You
can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off -- and
anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs."
"You're
a liar!"
"You're
another."
"You're
a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."
"Aw
-- take a walk!"
"Say
-- if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n
your head."
"Oh,
of COURSE you will."
"Well
I WILL."
"Well
why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't
you DO it? It's because you're afraid."
"I
AIN'T afraid."
"You
are."
"I
ain't."
"You
are."
Another
pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were
shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
"Get
away from here!"
"Go
away yourself!"
"I
won't."
"I
won't either."
So
they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both
shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But
neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and
flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
"You're
a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you
with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too."
"What
do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he
is -- and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both
brothers were imaginary.]
"That's
a lie."
"YOUR
saying so don't make it so."
Tom
drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
"I
dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up.
Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep."
The
new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
"Now
you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."
"Don't
you crowd me now; you better look out."
"Well,
you SAID you'd do it -- why don't you do it?"
"By
jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."
The
new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with
derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were
rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the
space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes,
punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust
and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of
battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his
fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.
The
boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying -- mainly from rage.
"Holler
'nuff!" -- and the pounding went on.
At
last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him
up and said:
"Now
that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next
time."
The
new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling,
and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he
would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom
responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his
back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him
between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom
chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a
position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but
the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last
the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child,
and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed"
to "lay" for that boy.
He
got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the
window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she
saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday
holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.
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