Aunt, you don t whack Sid when he takes it.
Well, Sid don t torment a body the way you do. You d be always into
that sugar if I warn t watching you.
Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity,
reached for the sugar-bowl a sort of glorying over Tom which was
wellnigh unbearable. But Sid s fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and
broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled
his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a
word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she
asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be
nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model catch it. He was
so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old
lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath
from over her spectacles. He said to himself, Now it s coming! And the
next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted
to strike again when Tom cried out:
Hold on, now, what er you belting _me_ for? Sid broke it!
Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when
she got her tongue again, she only said:
Umf! Well, you didn t get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some
other audacious mischief when I wasn t around, like enough.
Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something
kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a
confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that.
So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart.
Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart
his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the
consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice
of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then,
through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured
himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching
one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and
die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured
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