MINERVA

epishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: “Aunt Polly, it ain’t fair. Somebody’s got to be glad to see Huck.” “And so they shall. I’m glad to see him, poor motherless thing!” And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: “Praise God from whom all blessings flow—_sing_!—and put your hearts in it!” And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the “sold” congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day—according to Aunt Polly’s varying moods—than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII That was Tom’s great secret—the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: “Well, I don’t say it wasn’t a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering ’most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn’t dead, but only run off.” “Yes, you could have done that, Tom,” said Mary; “and I believe you would if you had thought of it.” “Would you, Tom?” said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. “Say, now, would you, if you’d thought of it?” “I—well, I don’t know. ’Twould ’a’ spoiled everything.” “Tom, I hoped you loved me that much,” said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. “It would have been something if you’d cared enough to _think_ of it, even if you didn’t _do_ it.” “Now, auntie, that ain’t any harm,” pleaded Mary; “it’s only Tom’s giddy way—he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything.” “More’s the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and _done_ it, too. Tom, you’ll look back, some day, when it’s too late, and wish you’d cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little.” “Now, auntie, you know I do care for you,” said Tom. “I’d know it better if you acted more like it.” “I wish now I’d thought,” said Tom, with a repentant tone; “b