disappointed, for more than one villager remarked:
It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it.
Tom s fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as
much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said:
Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me
awake half the time.
Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.
It s a bad sign, said Aunt Polly, gravely. What you got on your mind,
Tom?
Nothing. Nothing t I know of. But the boy s hand shook so that he
spilled his coffee.
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.
87