observed it, "made a mouth" at him, and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach laid before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it; I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice, but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of non-committal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in, and hesitatingly whispered, "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it, and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work, and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered, "It's nice-make a man.” The artist erected a man in the front yard that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house, but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered, "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs for it, and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: 'It's ever so nice-I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom; "I'll learn you." "Oh! will vou? when?" "At noon; do you go home to dinner?" I'll stay if you will." "Good-what's your name?"

"Becky Thatcher; what's yours? Oh! I know, it's Thomas Sawyer."

"That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good; you call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time; she begged to see. Tom said, "Oh! it aint anything." "Yes, it is." "No, it aint; you don't want to see it." "Yes, I do, indeed I do ; please let me ?" "You'll tell." "No, I won't-deed and deed and double deed I won't." "You won't tell anybody at all, ever as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell anybody. Now tell me." 66 Oh! you don't want to see." "Now that you treat me so, I will see." And she put her small hand upon his, and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest, but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I love you." "Oh! you bad thing!" and she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In this way he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggle from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But, although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher and whispered in her ear, "You put on your bonnet, and let on you're going home, and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way."

So the one went off with one group of scholars, and

the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it and creating another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you like rats?" "No! I hate them!"

But I mean dead ones,

"Well, I do too-live ones. to swing around your head with a string." "No, I don't care much for rats anyway; but what I like is chewing gum."

"Oh! I should say so! I wish I had some now!" "Do you? I got some; I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me."

This was agreeable, so they chewed it about in turns in excess of contentment.

"Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some day if I'm good." "I've been to the circus three or four times,-lots of times. Church aint shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time.

clown in a circus when I grow up."

I'm going to be a

"Oh! are you? That will be nice; they're so lovely, all spotted up."

"Yes, that's so, and they get slathers of money, most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says-Say, Beckie, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to be?" "I reckon so, I don't know; what is it like?"

"Like; why it aint like anything-you only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, never and

never and forever, and then you kiss, that's all-anybody can do it." "Kiss? why what do you kiss for ?" "Why that, you know, is to-well they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye-yes." "What was it ?" "I sha'n't tell you!" "Shall I tell you?" "Ye-yes-but some other time." "No, now." 'No, not now; to-morrow." "Oh! no-now; please, Becky, I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so softly." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist, and whispered the tale, ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear, and then he added, "Now, you whisper it to me just the same." She resisted awhile, and then said, "You turn your face away, so you can't see, and then I will; but then you mustn't ever tell anybody, will you, Tom? Now, won't you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't—now, Becky." He turned his face away, and she bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls, and whispered, "I love you." Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner, at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about the neck, and pleaded, "Now, Becky, it's all done, all over but the kiss. Don't be afraid of that, it aint anything at all-please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and her hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop, her face all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said. "Now it's all done, Becky, and always after this, you know, you aint ever to love anybody but me, and you aint ever to marry anybody but me-never, never and forever-will you ?" "No. I'll never love anybody

66

66

but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody out you, and you aint to marry anybody but me." Certainly, of course, that's part of it, and always coming to school, or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there aint anybody looking-and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's ever so nice; I never heard of it before!" "Oh! it's ever so gay! Why me and Amy Lawrence-" The big eyes told Tom his blunder, he stopped confused. "O Tom! then I aint the first girl you've ever been engaged to?" The child began to cry. "Don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom, you know you do." Tom tried to put his arms about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed, then he said, hesitatingly, "Becky, I don't care for anybody but you." No reply. More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob, from the top of an andiron, and passed it around so that she could see it, and said, Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hill and far away, to return to the school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect something. She ran to the door, Tom was not in sight; she flew around to the play-ground, he was not there, then she called "Tom, Tom, come back!" She listened intently, but there was no answer, she had no companion but silence and loneliness, so she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself, and by this time the scholars began to gather, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken