armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said:

It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw."

It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you."

Oh, will you? When?"

At noon. Do you go home to dinner?"

I'll stay if you will."

Good--that's a whack. What's your name?"

Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer."

That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me

Tom, will you?"

"Yes."

Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from

the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom

said:

Oh, it ain't anything."

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer