by Mark Twain
"Oh, you haven't, haven't you? How kind! Keep your benevolences to yourself till somebody asks you for them. Time!"
The new boy began to strike out, now; and every time he struck, Henry went down. Five times. There was great excitement among the boys. They recognised that they were going to lose a tyrant and perhaps get a protector in his place. In their happiness they lost their fears and began to shout-
"Give it him, Forty-four! Let him have it! Land him again! Another one! Give it him good!"
Henry was pluck. He went down time after time, but got patiently up and went at his work again, and did not give up until his strength was all gone. Then he said-
"The belt's yours-but I'll get even with you, yet, girly, you see if I don't." Then he looked around upon the crowd, and called eight of them by name, ending with Huck Finn, and said: "You're spotted, you see. I heard you. To-morrow I'll begin on you, and I'll lam the daylights out of you."
For the first time, a flash of temper showed in the new boy's eye. It was only a flash; it was gone in a moment; then lie said, without passion-
"I will not allow that."
"You won't allow it! Who's asking you? Who cares what you allow and what you don't allow? To show you how much I care, I'll begin on them now."
"I cannot have it. You must not be foolish. I have spared you, till now; I have struck you only lightly. If you touch one of the boys, I will hit you hard."
But Henry's temper was beyond his control. He jumped at the nearest boy on his black-list, but he did not reach him; he went down under a sounding slap from the flat of the new boy's hand, and lay motionless where he fell.
"I saw it! I saw that!" This shout was from Ilenry's father, the nigger-trader-an unloved man, but respected for his muscle and his temper. He came running from his sleigh, with his whip in his hand and raised to strike. The boys fell hack out of his way, and as he reached Forty-four he brought down the whip with an angry "I'll learn you!" Forty-four dodged deftly out of its course and seized the trader's wrist with his right hand. There was a sound of crackling bones and a groan, and the trader staggered away, saying-
"Name of God, my wrist is crushed!"
Henry's mamma arrived from the sleigh, now and broke into frenzies of lamentation over her collapsed son and her crippled husband, while the schoolboys looked on, dazed, and rather frightened at the woman's spectacular distress, but fascinated with the show and glad to be there and see it. It absorbed their attention so entirely that when Mrs. Bascom presently turned and demanded the extradition of Forty-four so that she might square accounts with him they found that he had disappeared without their having noticed it.
Chapter 3
ITHIN an hour afterward people began to drop in at the Hotchkiss house; ostensibly to make a friendly call, really to get sight of the miraculous boy. The news they brought soon made the I proud of their prize and glad that they had caught him. Mr. fIotchkiss's pride and joy were frank and simple; every new marvel that any comer added to the list of his lodger's great deeds made him a prouder and happier man than lie was before, he being a person substantially without jealousies and by nature addicted to admirations. Indeed he was a broad man in many ways; hospitable to new facts and always seeking them; to new ideas, and always examining them; to new opinions and always adopting them; a man ready to meet any novelty half way and give it a friendly trial. lie changed his principles with the moon, his politics with the weather, and his religion with his shirt. fie was recognized as being limitlessly good-hearted, quite fairly above the village average intellectually, a diligent and enthusiastic seeker after truth, and a sincere believer in his newest belief, but a man who had missed his vocation-he should have been a weather-vane. I Ic was tall and handsome and courteous, with winning ways, and expressive eyes, and had a white head which looked twenty years older than the rest of him.
Ilis good Presbyterian wife was as steady as an anvil. She was not a creature of change. When she gave shelter to an opinion she did not make a transient guest of it, but a permanency. She was fond and proud of her husband, and believed he would have been great if he had had a proper chance-if he had lived in a metropolis, instead of a village; if his merits had been exposed to the world instead of being hidden under a bushel. She was patient with his excursions after the truth. She expected him to be saved-thought she knew that that would happen, in fact. It could only be as a Presbyterian, of course, but that would come-come of a certainty. All the signs indicated it. He had often been a Presbyterian; he was periodically a Presbyterian, and she had noticed with comfort that his period was almost astronomically regular. She could take the almanac and calculate its return with nearly as much confidence as other astronomers calculated an eclipse. I Mohammedan period, his Methodist period, his Buddhist period, his Baptist period, his Parsi period, his Roman Catholic period, his Atheistic periodthese were all similarly regular, but she cared nothing for that. She knew there was a patient and compassionate providence watching over him that would see to it that he died in his Presbyterian period. The latest thing in religions was the Fox-girl Rochester rappings; so he was a Spiritualist for the present.
I I exulted in the wonders brought by the visitors, and the more they brought the happier she was in the possession of that boy; but she was very human in her make-up, and she felt a little aggravated over the fact that the news had to come from the outside; that these people should know these things about her lodger before she knew them herself; that she must sit and do the wondering and exclaiming when in all fairness she ought to be doing the telling and they the applauding; that they should be able to contribute all the marvels and she none. Finally the widow Dawson remarked upon the circumstance that all the information was being furnished from the one side; and added-
"Didn't he do anything out of the common here, sister * I kiss-last night or this morning?"
Ilannah was ashamed of her poverty. The only thing she was able to offer was colorless compared with the matters which she had been listening to.
"Well, no-I can't say that he did; unless you consider that we couldn't understand his language but did understand his signs about as easy as if they had been talk. We were astonished at it, and spoke of it afterwards."
l ler young niece, Annie Fleming, spoke up and said-
"Why, auntie, that wasn't all. The dog doesn't allow a stranger to come to the door at night, but he didn't bark at the boy; he acted as if he was ever so glad to see him. You said, yourself, that that never happened with a stranger before."
"It's true, as sure asvI live; it had passed out of my mind, child."
She was happier, now. Then her husband made a 'contribution-
"I call to mind, now, that just as we stepped into his room to show him its arrangements I knocked my elbow against the wardrobe and the candle fell and went out, and-"
"Certainly!" exclaimed Hannah, "and the next moment he had struck a match and was lighting-"
"Not the stub I had dropped," cried Hotchkiss, "but a whole candle! Now the marvel is that there was only one whole candle in the room-"
"And it was clear on the other side of the room," interrupted Hannah, "and moreover only just the end of it was showing, where it lay on the top of the bookcase, and he had noticed it with that lightning eye of his-"
"Of course, of course!" exclaimed the company, with admiration.
"-and gone right to it in the dark without disturbing a chair. Why, sister Dawson, a cat couldn't have done it any quicker or better or surer! Just think of it!"
A chorus of rewarding astonishment broke out which made Hannah's whole constitution throb with pleasure; and when sister Dawson laid her hand impressively upon Hannah's hand, and then walled her eyes toward the ceiling, as much as to say, "it's beyond words, beyond words!" the pleasure rose to ecstasy.
"Wait!" said Mr. Hotchkiss, breaking out with the kind of laugh which in the back settlements gives notice that something humorous is coming, "I can tell you a wonder that beats that to piecesbeats anything a
nd everything that has been told about him up to date. He paid four weeks' board in advance-cash down! Petersburg can believe the rest, but you'll never catch it taking that statement at par."
The joke had immense success; the laugh was hearty all around. Then Hotchkiss issued another notifying laugh, and added-
"And there's another wonder on top of that; I tell you a little at a time, so as not to overstrain you. He didn't pay in wildcat at twentyfive discount, but in a currency you've forgotten the look of -minted gold! Four yellow eagle-birds-and here they are, if you don't believe me."
This was too grand and fine to be humorous; it was impressive, almost awe-inspiring. The gold pieces were passed from hand to hand and contemplated in mute reverence. Aunt Rachel, elderly slave woman, was passing cracked nuts and cider. She offered a contribution, now.
"Now, den, dat 'splain it! I uz a wonderin' 'bout dat cannel. You is right, Miss Hannah, dey uz only one in de room, en she uz on top er de bookcase. Well, she dah yit-she hain't been tetched."
"Not been touched?"
"No, m'am; she hain't been tetched. A ornery po' yaller taller cannel, ain't she?"
"Of course."
"Yes'm. I mould' dat cannel myself. Kin we 'ford wax cannelshalf a dollar a pound?"
"Wax! The idea!"
"Dat new cannel's wax!"
"Oh, come!"
"Fo' Gawd she is. White as Miss Guthrie's store-teeth."
A delicate flattery-shot, neatly put. The widow Guthrie, 56 and dressed for 25, was pleased, and exhibited a girlish embarrassment that was very pretty. She was excusably vain of her false teeth, the only ones in the town; a costly luxury, and a fine and showy contrast with the prevailing mouth-equipment of both old and young-the kind of sharp contrast which whitewashed palings make with a charred stump-fence.
Everybody wanted to see the wax candle; Annie Fleming was hurried away to fetch it, and aunt Rachel resumed-
"Miss Hannah, dey's sump'n pow'ful odd 'bout our young gentman. In de fust place, he ain't got no baggage. Ain't dat so?"
"It hasn't come yet, but I reckon it's coming. I've been expecting it all day, of course."
'Well, don't you give yourself no mo' trouble 'bout it, honey. In my opinion he ain't got no baggage, en none ain't a-coming."
"What makes you think that, Rachel?"
"Gaze he ain't got no use for it, Miss Hannah."
'Why?"
"I's gwyne tell you. Warn't he dress' beautiful when he come?"
"Yes." Then she added-to the company: "Plain, but of finer materials than anybody here is used to. Nicely made, too, and spick and span new."
"You's got it down 'cording to de facts. Now den, I went to his room dis mawnin to fetch his clo'es so Jeff could bresh 'em en black his boots, en dey warn't no clo'es dah. Nary a rag. En no boots en no socks, nuther. He uz soun' asleep, en I search de place all over. Tuck his breakfus after you-all uz done-didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Prim en slick en combed up nice as a cat, warn't he?"
"Yes. I think so. I had only a glimpse of him."
"Well, he was; en dey ain't no comb ner bresh ner nothing in dat room. How you reckon he done it?"
"I don't know."
"En I don't. But dem is de facts. Did you notice his clo'es, honey?"
"No. Only that they were neat and handsome."
"Now den, I did. Dey warn't de same dat he come in."
"Why, Rachel-"
"Nemmine, I knows what I's a talkin' 'bout. Dey warn't de same. Every rag of 'em jist a little diffunt; not much, but diffunt. His overcoat uz on a cheer by him, en it uz entirely diffunt. Las' night it uz long en brown, dis mawnin' it uz short en blue; en dah he sot, wid shoes on, not boots-I swah to it!"
The explosions of astonishment that followed this charmed Mrs. Hotchkiss's ear; the family's shares in the wonder-market were accumulating satisfactorily.
"Now, den, Miss Hannah, dat ain't all. I fotch him some mo' batter-cakes, en whilst I uz a butterin"em for him I happens to look around, en dah uz ole Sanctified Sal, as Marse Oliver calls her, a loafin' along in, perfeckly comfortable. When I see dat, I says to myself, By jimminy dey's bewitchment here som'ers, en it's time for me to light out, en I done it. En I tole Jeff, en he didn't b'lieve me, so me en him slip back en peep, for to see what uz gwyne to happen. En Jeff uz a sayin' `She'll tah de livers en lights outer him, dat's what she'll do; she ain't friendly to no stranger any time, en now she's got kittens, she won't stan' 'em nohow.'
"Rachel, it was shame of you to leave her there; you knew perfectly well ,vat could happen."
"I knowed it warn't right, Miss Hannah, but I couldn't he'p it, I uz scairt to see de cat so ca'm. But don't you worry, honey. You 'member 'bout de dog? De dog didn't fly at him, de dog uz glad to see him. Jist de same wid de cat. Me en Jeff seen it. She jump' up in his lap, en he stroke her, en she uz happy, en raise her back up en down comfortable, en wave her tail, en scrape her head along under his chin, en den jump on de table en set down, en den dey talk together."
"Talk together!"
"Yes'm. I wisht I may die if it ain't so."
"The foreign talk that he began with, last night?"
"No'm. Cat-talk."
"Nonsense!"
"Shore's you born. Cat-talk. Bofe of 'em talked cat-talk-sof' en petting-jist like a ole cat en a young cat-cats dat's relations. Well, she tuck a chance at de vittles, en didn't like 'em, so den he tuck truck outer his pocket en fed it to her-en you bet you she didn't go back on dat! No'm-'deed she didn't. She laid into it like she hain't had nothin' to eat for four years. He tuck it all outer de same pocket. Now, den, Miss Hannah, I reckon you knows how much Sanctified Sal kin hold? Well, he loaded her chock up to de chin-yes'm, till her eyes fairly bug out. She couldn't wag her tail she's so full. Look like she'd swallered a watermillion she uz dat crammed. Tuck it all outer dat one pocket. Now, den, Miss Hannah, dey ain't no pocket, en dey ain't no saddle-bags dat kin hold enough to load up Sanctified Sal, en you knows it. Well, he tuck it all outer de one pocket-I swah to it."
Everybody was impressed; there was a crackling fire of ejaculations; sister Dawson walled her eyes again, and Dr. Wheelright, that imposing oracle, nodded his head slowly up and down, as one who could deliver a weighty thought an' he would.
"Well, a mouse come a-running, en run up his leg en into his bosom, en Sanctified Sal was nodding, but she seen it en forgot she uz loaded, en made a jump for it en fell off the table, en laid there on her back a-waving her hands in the air, en waved a couple of times or so en went to sleep jist so-couldn't keep her eyes open. Den he loaded up de mouse-outer dat same pocket; en put his head down en dey talked mouse-talk together."
"Oh, stop-your imagination's running away with you."
"Fo' Gawd it's true. Me en Jeff heard 'em. Den he put de mouse down en started off, en de mouse was bound she'd foller him; so he put her in de cubberd en shet de do'; den he cler'd out de back way.
"How does it come you didn't tell us these things sooner, Rachel?"
"Me tell you! Hm! You reckon you'd a b'lieved me? You reckon you'd a b'lieved Jeff? We b'lieves in bewitcliments, caze we knows dey's so; but you-all only jist laughs at'em. Does you reckon you'd a b'lieved me, Miss Hannah?-does you?"
"Well-no."
"Den you'd a laughed at me. Does a po' nigger want to git laughed at any mo' d'n white folks? No, Miss Hannah, dey don't. We's got our feelin's, same as you-all, alldough we's ign'ant en black."
Her tongue was hung in the middle and was easier to start than to stop. It would have gone on wagging, now, but that the wax candle had long ago been waiting for exhibition. Annie Fleming sat with it in her hand, with one ear drinking in aunt Rachel's fairytales, and the other one listening for the click of the gate-latch; for she had lost her tender little inexperienced heart to the new boy without suspecting it; awake and asleep she had been dreaming of his beautiful face ever since she had had her first glimpse of it and she was longing to see it again and feel that enchanting and myste
rious ecstasy which it had inspired in her before. She was a dear and sweet and pretty and guileless creature, she was just turned eighteen, she did not know she was in love, she only knew that she worshiped-worshiped as the fire-worshipers worship the sun, content to see his face and feel his warmth, unworthy of a nearer intimacy, unequal to it, unfitted for it, and not requiring it or aspiring to it. Why didn't he come? Why had he not come to dinner? The hours were so slow, the day so tedious; the longest she had known in her eighteen years. All were growing more and more impatient for his coming, but their impatience was pale beside hers; and besides, they could express it, and did, but she could not have that relief, she must hide her secret, she must put on the lie of indifference and act it the best she could.
The candle was passed from hand to hand, now, and its material admired and verified; then Annie carried it away.
It was well past mid-afternoon, and the days were short. Annie and her aunt were to sup and spend the night with sister Guthrie on the hill, a good mile distant. What should be done? Was it worth while to wait longer for the boy? The company were reluctant to go without seeing him; sister Guthrie hoped she might have the distinction of his presence in her house with the niece and the aunt, and would like to wait a little longer and invite him; so it was agreed to hold on a while.
Annie returned, now, and there was disappointment in her face and a pain at her heart, though no one detected the one nor suspected the other. She said-
"Aunty, he has been here, and is gone again."
"Then he must have come the back way. It's too bad. But are you sure? How do you know?"
"Because he has changed his clothes."
"Are there clothes there?"
"Yes; and not the ones he had this morning, nor the ones he wore last night."
"Dah, now, what I tell you? En dat baggage not come yit!"
"Can we see them?"
"Can't we see them?"
"Do let us go and look at them!"