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The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

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“But here we’re a-running on this way, and you hain’t told me a word about Sis, nor any of them. Now I’ll rest my works a little, and you start up yourn; just tell me EVERYTHING—tell me all about ’m all every one of ’m; and how they are, and what they’re doing, and what they told you to tell me; and every last thing you can think of.” “But here I am carrying on like this, and you haven’t told me a word about Sis or any of them. Now I’ll rest a little, and you can start talking. Tell me EVERYTHING—tell me all about them, every one of them. Tell me how they are, and what they’re doing, and what they told you to tell me, and every last thing you can think of.”
Well, I see I was up a stump—and up it good. Providence had stood by me this fur all right, but I was hard and tight aground now. I see it warn’t a bit of use to try to go ahead—I’d got to throw up my hand. So I says to myself, here’s another place where I got to resk the truth. I opened my mouth to begin; but she grabbed me and hustled me in behind the bed, and says: Well, I saw I was up a creek—and pretty far up it too. Providence had stood right by me for this long, but now I’d run aground. I saw that it wouldn’t be any use to try and keep this up—I just had to give up. So I said to myself, here is another time when I’m going to have to risk telling the truth. I opened my mouth to begin, but just then she grabbed me and pushed me down behind the bed and said:
“Here he comes! Stick your head down lower—there, that’ll do; you can’t be seen now. Don’t you let on you’re here. I’ll play a joke on him. Children, don’t you say a word.” “Here he comes! Stick your head down lower—there, that’ll do. You can’t be seen now. Don’t let on that you’re here—I’m going to play a joke on him. Children, don’t say a word.”
I see I was in a fix now. But it warn’t no use to worry; there warn’t nothing to do but just hold still, and try and be ready to stand from under when the lightning struck. I saw that I was in a fix now. But it wasn’t going to do any good to worry. There wasn’t anything I could do but sit tight and try and be ready to get out of the way when she found out.
I had just one little glimpse of the old gentleman when he come in; then the bed hid him. Mrs. Phelps she jumps for him, and says: I had just one little glimpse of the old gentleman when he came in. The bed hid him from view. Mrs. Phelps jumped for him, and said:
“Has he come?” “Has he come?”
“No,” says her husband. “No,” said her husband.
“Good-NESS gracious!” she says, “what in the warld can have become of him?” “GOODNESS gracious!” she said. “Where in the world IS here?”
“I can’t imagine,” says the old gentleman; “and I must say it makes me dreadful uneasy.” “I can’t imagine,” said the old gentleman. “I must say, it makes me feel awfully uneasy.”
“Uneasy!” she says; “I’m ready to go distracted! He MUST a come; and you’ve missed him along the road. I KNOW it’s so—something tells me so.” “Uneasy!” she said. “I’m about to lose my mind! He must have come, and you missed him on the road. I KNOW that’s what happened—something tells me that’s it.”
“Why, Sally, I COULDN’T miss him along the road—YOU know that.” “But, Sally, I COULDN’T have missed him on the road—YOU know that.”
“But oh, dear, dear, what WILL Sis say! He must a come! You must a missed him. He—” “But, oh dear, oh dear, what WILL SIS say?! He has to come! You must have missed him. He….”
“Oh, don’t distress me any more’n I’m already distressed. I don’t know what in the world to make of it. I’m at my wit’s end, and I don’t mind acknowledging ’t I’m right down scared. But there’s no hope that he’s come; for he COULDN’T come and me miss him. Sally, it’s terrible—just terrible—something’s happened to the boat, sure!” “Oh, don’t make me any more worried than I already am. I don’t know what to make of it. I’m at my wit’s end, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m downright scared. But there’s no hope that he’s already come—he COULDN’T have come because I wouldn’t have missed him. Sally, it’s terrible, just terrible—something’s happened to the boat, for sure!”
“Why, Silas! Look yonder!—up the road!—ain’t that somebody coming?” “But Silas! Look over there! Look up the road! Isn’t that someone coming?”
He sprung to the window at the head of the bed, and that give Mrs. Phelps the chance she wanted. She stooped down quick at the foot of the bed and give me a pull, and out I come; and when he turned back from the window there she stood, a-beaming and a-smiling like a house afire, and I standing pretty meek and sweaty alongside. The old gentleman stared, and says: He ran to the window at the head of the bed, which gave Mrs. Phelps the chance she’d been looking for. She stooped down quickly at the foot of the bed and tugged at me, and out I came. And when he turned back from the window, there she stood, beaming and smiling as brightly as a burning house, and me looking meek and sweaty beside her. The old gentleman stared and said:
“Why, who’s that?” “Why, who’s that?”
“Who do you reckon ’t is?” “Who do you think it is?”
“I hain’t no idea. Who IS it?” “I don’t have any idea. Who IS it?”
“It’s TOM SAWYER!” “It’s TOM SAWYER!”
By jings, I most slumped through the floor! But there warn’t no time to swap knives; the old man grabbed me by the hand and shook, and kept on shaking; and all the time how the woman did dance around and laugh and cry; and then how they both did fire off questions about Sid, and Mary, and the rest of the tribe. By golly, I almost fell through the floor! But there wasn’t time to think about it—the old man grabbed me by the hand and shook it over and over while the woman danced around and laughed and cried. And then they both fired off questions about Sid and Mary and the rest of the Sawyer clan.
But if they was joyful, it warn’t nothing to what I was; for it was like being born again, I was so glad to find out who I was. Well, they froze to me for two hours; and at last, when my chin was so tired it couldn’t hardly go any more, I had told them more about my family—I mean the Sawyer family—than ever happened to any six Sawyer families. And I explained all about how we blowed out a cylinder-head at the mouth of White River, and it took us three days to fix it. Which was all right, and worked first-rate; because THEY didn’t know but what it would take three days to fix it. If I’d a called it a bolthead it would a done just as well. But their happiness wasn’t anything compared to mine. I felt like I was born again—I was so glad to find out who I was supposed to be. Well, they stuck to me like glue for two hours. My chin was worn out from telling them everything about my family—I mean, the Sawyer family. Actually, I told them everything that happened to all six of the Sawyer families. I explained all about how we blew out a cylinder head at the mouth of the White River, and how it had taken us three days to fix it. This story worked out fine since THEY didn’t know that it would take only three days to fix a cylinder head. I could have called it a bolthead, and they would have believed me.

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