The Adventures of Tom Sawyer eBook

“Thomas Sawyer—­sir.”

“That’s it!  That’s a good boy.  Fine boy.  Fine, manly little fellow.  Two thousand verses is a great many—­very, very great many.  And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it’s what makes great men and good men; you’ll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you’ll look back and say, It’s all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood—­it’s all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn—­it’s all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible—­a splendid elegant Bible—­to keep and have it all for my own, always—­it’s all owing to right bringing up!  That is what you will say, Thomas—­and you wouldn’t take any money for those two thousand verses—­no indeed you wouldn’t.  And now you wouldn’t mind telling me and this lady some of the things you’ve learned—­no, I know you wouldn’t—­for we are proud of little boys that learn.  Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples.  Won’t you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?”

Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish.  He blushed, now, and his eyes fell.  Mr. Walters’ heart sank within him.  He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question—­why did the Judge ask him?  Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: 

“Answer the gentleman, Thomas—­don’t be afraid.”

Tom still hung fire.

“Now I know you’ll tell me,” said the lady.  “The names of the first two disciples were—­”

“David and GOLIAH!”

Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene.

CHAPTER V

About half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon.  The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision.  Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her—­Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible.  The crowd filed up the aisles:  the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife—­for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the