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 today, 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