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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

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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