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Chapter 6

Tom Meets Becky

MONDAY MORNING found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always
found him so-because it began another week’s slow suffering in school. He
generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it
made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious.

Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then
he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his
system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought
he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with
considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away.
He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front
teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a “starter,” as
he called it, when it occured to him that if he came into court with that
argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he
would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing
offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell
about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened
to make him lose a finger.

So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for
inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it
seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable

But Sid slept on unconscious.
Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe.
No result from Sid.

Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled
himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans.

Sid snored on.
Tom was aggravated. He said, “Sid, Sid!” and shook him. This course worked
well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought
himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on

Sid said:
“Tom! Say, Tom!” [No response.] “Here, Tom! Tom! What is the matter, Tom?”
And he shook him, and looked in his face anxiously.

Tom moaned out: “O don’t, Sid. Don’t joggle me.” “Why what’s the matter,
Tom? I must call auntie.” “No-never mind. It’ll be over by and by, maybe. Don’t
call anybody.” “But I must! Don’t groan so, Tom, it’s awful. How long you been
this way?” “Hours. Ouch! O don’t stir so, Sid, you’ll kill me.”

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