A tremendous whack came down on Tom’s shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe’s; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it.
When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear:
\"Put on your bonnet and let on you’re going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of ’em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I’ll go the other way and come it over ’em the same way.\"
So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said:
\"Do you love rats?\"
\"No! I hate them!\"
\"Well, I do, too—live ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string.\"
\"No, I don’t care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum.\"
\"Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now.\"
\"Do you? I’ve got some. I’ll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me.\"
That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment.
\"Was you ever at a circus?\" said Tom.
\"Yes, and my pa’s going to take me again some time, if I’m good.\"
\"I been to the circus three or four times—lots of times. Church ain’t shucks to a circus. There’s things going on at a circus all the time. I’m going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up.\"
\"Oh, are you! That will be nice. They’re so lovely, all spotted up.\"
\"Yes, that’s so. And they get slathers of money—most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?\"
\"What’s that?\"
\"Why, engaged to be married.\"
\"No.\"
\"Would you like to?\"
\"I reckon so. I don’t know. What is it like?\"
\"Like? Why it ain’t like anything. You only just tell a boy you won’t ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that’s all. Anybody can do it.\"
\"Kiss? What do you kiss for?\"
\"Why, that, you know, is to—well, they always do that.\"
\"Everybody?\"
\"Why, yes, everybody that’s in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?\"
\"Ye—yes.\"
\"What was it?\"
\"I sha’n’t tell you.\"
\"Shall I tell you?\"
\"Ye—yes—but some other time.\"
\"No, now.\"
\"No, not now—to-morrow.\"
\"Oh, no, now. Please, Becky—I’ll whisper it, I’ll whisper it ever so easy.\"
Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added:
\"Now you whisper it to me—just the same.\"
She resisted, for a while, and then said:
\"You turn your face away so you can’t see, and then I will. But you mustn’t ever tell anybody—will you, Tom? Now you won’t, will you?\"