“And you do talk such stuff,” Sid said.
“Last night you said, ’It’s blood,
it’s blood, that’s what it is!’ You
said that over and over. And you said, ‘Don’t
torment me so—I’ll tell!’ Tell
what? What is it you’ll tell?”
Everything was swimming before Tom. There is
no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily
the concern passed out of Aunt Polly’s face
and she came to Tom’s relief without knowing
it. She said:
“Sho! It’s that dreadful murder.
I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes
I dream it’s me that done it.”
Mary said she had been affected much the same way.
Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence
as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he
complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his
jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly
watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free
and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while
at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back
to its place again. Tom’s distress of mind
wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome
and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make
anything out of Tom’s disjointed mutterings,
he kept it to himself.
It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would
get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping
his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed
that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries,
though it had been his habit to take the lead in all
new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted
as a witness—and that was strange; and
Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed
a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided
them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing.
However, even inquests went out of vogue at last,
and ceased to torture Tom’s conscience.
Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom
watched his opportunity and went to the little grated
jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through
to the “murderer” as he could get hold
of. The jail was a trifling little brick den
that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village,
and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was
seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped
to ease Tom’s conscience.
The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather
Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching,
but so formidable was his character that nobody could
be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter,
so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin
both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without
confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore
it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts
at present.
