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with an M--’
‘Why with an M?’ said Alice.
‘Why not?’ said the March Hare.
Alice was silent.
The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into
a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with
a little shriek, and went on: ‘--that begins with an M, such as
mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say
things are “much of a muchness”--did you ever see such a thing as a
drawing of a muchness?’
‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, v
Details
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.
Now I was feeling pretty comfortable all down one side, and pretty
uncomfortable all up the other. Being Tom Sawyer was easy and
comfortable, and it stayed easy and comfortable till by and by I hear a
steamboat coughing along down the river. Then I says to myself, s'pose
Tom Sawyer comes down on that boat? And s'pose he steps in here any
minute, and sings out my name before I can throw him a wink to keep
quiet?
Well, I couldn't _have_ it that way; it wouldn't do at all. I must go
up the road and waylay him. So I told the folks I reckoned I would go
up to the town and fetch down my baggage. The old gentleman was for
going along with me, but I said no, I could drive the horse myself, and
I druther he wouldn't take no trouble about me.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
SO I started for town in the wagon, and when I was half-way I see a
wagon coming, and sure enough it was Tom Sawyer, and I stopped and
waited till he come along. I says “Hold on!” and it stopped alongside,
and his mouth opened up like a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed
two or three times like a person that's got a dry throat, and then says:
“I hain't ever done you no harm. You know that. So, then, what you
want to come back and ha'nt _me_ for?”
I says:
“I hain't come back--I hain't been _gone_.”
When he heard my voice it righted him up some, but he warn't quite
satisfied yet. He says:
“Don't you play nothing on me, because I wouldn't on you. Honest injun
now, you ain't a ghost?”
“Honest injun, I ain't,” I says.
“Well--I--I--well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can't somehow
seem to understand it no way. Looky here, warn't you ever murdered _at
all?_”
“No. I warn't eve