The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that
was of any consequence in the village was there.
The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses,
Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and
a great many more, and all dressed in their best.
The widow received the boys as heartily as any one
could well receive two such looking beings. They
were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt
Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned
and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half
as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones
said:
“Tom wasn’t at home, yet, so I gave him
up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door,
and so I just brought them along in a hurry.”
“And you did just right,” said the widow.
“Come with me, boys.”
She took them to a bedchamber and said:
“Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are
two new suits of clothes —shirts, socks,
everything complete. They’re Huck’s—no,
no thanks, Huck—Mr. Jones bought one and
I the other. But they’ll fit both of you.
Get into them. We’ll wait—come
down when you are slicked up enough.”
Then she left.
Huck said: “Tom, we can slope, if
we can find a rope. The window ain’t high
from the ground.”
“Shucks! what do you want to slope for?”
“Well, I ain’t used to that kind of a
crowd. I can’t stand it. I ain’t
going down there, Tom.”
“Oh, bother! It ain’t anything.
I don’t mind it a bit. I’ll take care
of you.”
Sid appeared.
“Tom,” said he, “auntie has been
waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your
Sunday clothes ready, and everybody’s been fretting
about you. Say—ain’t this grease
and clay, on your clothes?”
“Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist ’tend to your
own business. What’s all this blow-out
about, anyway?”
“It’s one of the widow’s parties
that she’s always having. This time it’s
for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape
they helped her out of the other night. And say—I
can tell you something, if you want to know.”
“Well, what?”
“Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring
something on the people here to-night, but I overheard
him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but
I reckon it’s not much of a secret now.
Everybody knows —the widow, too, for all
she tries to let on she don’t. Mr. Jones
was bound Huck should be here—couldn’t
get along with his grand secret without Huck, you
know!”
“Secret about what, Sid?”
“About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow’s.
I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time
over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty
flat.”
Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.
“Sid, was it you that told?”
“Oh, never mind who it was. Somebody
told—that’s enough.”
