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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 4, Página 5
Tom
showed
his
tickets.
They
were
good,
and
the
owner
changed.
Then
Tom
traded
some
white
marbles
for
three
red
tickets,
and
something
small
for
two
blue
ones.
He
stopped
other
boys
as
they
came
and
kept
buying
tickets
of
different
colors
for
ten
or
fifteen
minutes
more.
He
entered
the
church
with
many
clean
and
noisy
boys
and
girls,
went
to
his
seat,
and
started
a
fight
with
the
first
boy
he
saw.
The
teacher,
an
old
man,
stopped
them;
then
turned
away
for
a
moment,
and
Tom
pulled
a
boy’s
hair
on
the
next
bench,
and
was
busy
with
his
book
when
the
boy
turned
around.
Tom
stuck
a
pin
in
another
boy
to
make
him
say
“Ouch!”
and
got
scolded
by
his
teacher
again.
Tom’s
whole
class
was
the
same—restless,
noisy,
and
troublesome.
When
they
recited
their
lessons,
not
one
knew
his
verses
perfectly,
but
needed
help
all
the
time.
However,
they
got
through,
and
each
got
a
reward—small
blue
tickets
with
a
Bible
verse
on
them.
Each
blue
ticket
was
for
two
verses.
Ten
blue
tickets
made
a
red
one,
and
ten
red
tickets
made
a
yellow
one.
For
ten
yellow
tickets,
the
superintendent
gave
a
simple
Bible
to
the
pupil.
How
many
readers
would
learn
two
thousand
verses
for
a
Bible?
Yet
Mary
had
won
two
Bibles
this
way—it
took
two
years—and
a
boy
from
Germany
had
won
four
or
five.
He
once
recited
three
thousand
verses
without
stopping;
but
it
was
too
much
for
him,
and
he
was
not
the
same
after
that—a
sad
thing
for
the
school,
because
on
special
days,
the
superintendent
always
made
this
boy
show
off.
Only
the
older
pupils
kept
their
tickets
and
worked
long
enough
to
get
a
Bible,
so
getting
one
was
a
rare
and
special
event;
the
successful
pupil
was
important
that
day,
and
every
student
felt
new
ambition
that
often
lasted
a
few
weeks.
Maybe
Tom
never
really
wanted
one
of
those
prizes,
but
he
surely
wanted
the
glory
and
excitement
that
came
with
it.
Soon,
the
superintendent
stood
in
front
of
the
pulpit,
with
a
closed
hymn-book
in
his
hand
and
his
finger
between
its
pages,
and
asked
for
attention.
When
a
Sunday-school
superintendent
gives
his
usual
speech,
a
hymn-book
in
hand
is
as
needed
as
a
music
sheet
for
a
singer
at
a
concert—though
why,
is
unclear:
neither
the
hymn-book
nor
the
music
sheet
is
ever
used.
This
superintendent
was
a
thin
man
of
thirty-five,
with
a
sandy
beard
and
short
sandy
hair;
he
wore
a
stiff
collar
that
almost
reached
his
ears
and
curved
forward
at
the
corners
of
his
mouth—a
collar
that
made
him
look
straight
ahead,
and
turn
his
whole
body
for
a
side
view.
His
chin
rested
on
a
wide
cravat
with
fringed
ends,
like
a
bank-note.
His
boots
had
toes
turned
up
sharply,
like
sleigh-runners—an
effect
young
men
made
by
sitting
with
their
toes
against
a
wall
for
hours.
Mr.
Walters
was
very
serious
and
sincere;
he
respected
sacred
things
and
places
so
much
that
his
Sunday-school
voice
sounded
different
from
his
weekday
voice.
He
began
like
this:
“Now,
children,
I
want
you
all
to
sit
up
straight
and
nice
and
listen
to
me
for
a
minute
or
two.
There—that's
it.
That
is
how
good
boys
and
girls
should
behave.
I
see
one
girl
looking
out
the
window—I
think
she
believes
I
am
out
there
somewhere—maybe
in
a
tree
talking
to
the
birds.
[Laughter.]
I
want
to
tell
you
how
happy
it
makes
me
to
see
so
many
bright,
clean
faces
here,
learning
to
do
right
and
be
good.”
And
so
on.
The
rest
of
the
speech
was
the
same
as
usual,
so
we
know
it
well.
The
last
part
of
the
speech
was
disturbed
by
fights
and
other
fun
among
the
naughty
boys,
and
by
fidgeting
and
whispering
that
spread
far
and
wide,
even
reaching
good
kids
like
Sid
and
Mary.
But
now
all
noise
stopped
suddenly
when
Mr.
Walters
finished
speaking,
and
the
end
of
the
speech
was
met
with
silent
thanks.
A
lot
of
whispering
happened
because
of
a
rare
event—the
entrance
of
visitors:
lawyer
Thatcher,
with
a
very
old
man;
a
fine,
big,
middle-aged
man
with
gray
hair;
and
a
dignified
lady
who
was
probably
his
wife.
The
lady
was
leading
a
child.
Tom
was
restless
and
full
of
regret;
he
could
not
look
at
Amy
Lawrence,
he
could
not
bear
her
loving
eyes.
But
when
he
saw
the
new
child,
he
was
full
of
joy
in
a
moment.
The
next
moment
he
was
showing
off
with
all
his
might—hitting
boys,
pulling
hair,
making
faces—in
short,
doing
everything
to
impress
a
girl
and
win
her
praise.
His
happiness
had
only
one
problem—the
memory
of
his
shame
in
this
angel's
garden—but
that
memory
was
fading
fast
under
the
waves
of
happiness
now.
The
visitors
got
the
best
seats,
and
when
Mr.
Walters
finished
his
speech,
he
introduced
them
to
the
school.
The
middle-aged
man
was
a
very
important
person—the
county
judge—the
most
impressive
person
these
children
had
ever
seen—and
they
wondered
what
he
was
made
of—and
they
half
wanted
to
hear
him
roar,
and
were
half
afraid
he
might.
He
was
from
Constantinople,
twelve
miles
away—so
he
had
traveled,
and
seen
the
world—these
very
eyes
had
seen
the
county
courthouse—which
was
said
to
have
a
tin
roof.
The
awe
these
thoughts
inspired
was
shown
by
the
silence
and
staring
eyes.
This
was
the
great
Judge
Thatcher,
brother
of
their
own
lawyer.
Jeff
Thatcher
quickly
went
forward,
to
be
close
to
the
great
man
and
be
envied
by
the
school.
It
would
have
been
music
to
his
soul
to
hear
the
whispers:
“Look
at
him,
Jim!
He’s
going
up
there.
Hey—look!
he’s
going
to
shake
hands
with
him—he
is
shaking
hands
with
him!
Wow,
don’t
you
wish
you
were
Jeff?”
Mr.
Walters
was
busy
showing
off.
He
gave
orders
and
told
people
what
to
do.
The
librarian
ran
around
with
books,
making
a
lot
of
noise.
The
young
lady
teachers
smiled
at
the
children,
warning
bad
boys
and
praising
good
ones.
The
young
gentlemen
teachers
scolded
and
acted
important.
Many
teachers
went
to
the
library,
pretending
to
have
work.
The
little
girls
showed
off
in
their
own
ways,
and
the
little
boys
threw
paper
and
made
noise.
Above
them
all,
the
important
man
smiled
and
felt
proud,
for
he
was
showing
off
too.
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — A2 Inglés | Cuentana