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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 4, Página 5
Tom
showed
his
collection.
They
were
good
enough,
and
the
property
changed
owners.
Then
Tom
traded
a
couple
of
white
marbles
for
three
red
tickets,
and
something
small
for
two
blue
ones.
He
stopped
other
boys
as
they
arrived
and
kept
buying
tickets
of
different
colors
for
another
ten
or
fifteen
minutes.
He
entered
the
church
with
a
group
of
clean
and
noisy
boys
and
girls,
went
to
his
seat,
and
started
a
fight
with
the
first
boy
he
could.
The
teacher,
a
serious,
older
man,
stepped
in;
then
turned
his
back
for
a
moment,
and
Tom
pulled
a
boy's
hair
on
the
next
bench.
He
was
focused
on
his
book
when
the
boy
turned
around;
he
stuck
a
pin
in
another
boy
to
hear
him
say
"Ouch!"
and
got
another
warning
from
his
teacher.
Tom's
whole
class
was
the
same—restless,
noisy,
and
troublesome.
When
they
recited
their
lessons,
none
of
them
knew
their
verses
perfectly
and
needed
help
all
along.
However,
they
managed
to
get
through,
and
each
got
a
reward
in
small
blue
tickets,
each
with
a
Scripture
passage
on
it;
each
blue
ticket
was
for
two
verses
recited.
Ten
blue
tickets
equaled
a
red
one,
and
could
be
exchanged
for
it;
ten
red
tickets
equaled
a
yellow
one;
for
ten
yellow
tickets,
the
superintendent
gave
a
simply
bound
Bible
(worth
forty
cents
in
those
times)
to
the
student.
How
many
readers
would
memorize
two
thousand
verses,
even
for
a
Doré
Bible?
Yet
Mary
had
earned
two
Bibles
this
way—it
took
two
years—and
a
boy
of
German
descent
had
won
four
or
five.
He
once
recited
three
thousand
verses
without
stopping,
but
the
strain
was
too
much,
and
he
was
not
much
better
than
an
idiot
afterward—a
big
misfortune
for
the
school,
because
on
special
occasions,
the
superintendent
(as
Tom
put
it)
always
made
this
boy
come
out
and
"show
off."
Only
the
older
students
kept
their
tickets
and
worked
long
enough
to
get
a
Bible,
so
giving
out
one
of
these
prizes
was
rare
and
special;
the
successful
student
was
very
important
for
that
day,
and
every
student’s
heart
was
filled
with
fresh
ambition
that
often
lasted
a
couple
of
weeks.
It’s
possible
Tom
never
really
wanted
one
of
those
prizes,
but
he
certainly
longed
for
the
glory
and
excitement
that
came
with
it.
Soon,
the
superintendent
stood
in
front
of
the
pulpit,
holding
a
closed
hymn-book
with
his
finger
inside,
and
called
for
attention.
When
a
Sunday-school
superintendent
gives
his
usual
little
speech,
a
hymn-book
in
hand
is
as
necessary
as
a
sheet
of
music
for
a
singer
at
a
concert—though
no
one
knows
why,
since
neither
is
ever
used.
This
superintendent
was
a
slim
man
of
thirty-five,
with
a
sandy
goatee
and
short
sandy
hair;
he
wore
a
stiff
collar
that
almost
reached
his
ears,
and
the
sharp
points
curved
forward
near
his
mouth—a
barrier
that
made
him
look
straight
ahead
and
turn
his
whole
body
for
a
side
view;
his
chin
rested
on
a
wide
cravat
as
broad
and
long
as
a
banknote,
with
fringed
ends;
his
boot
toes
were
sharply
turned
up,
like
sleigh-runners—an
effect
young
men
achieved
by
pressing
their
toes
against
a
wall
for
hours.
Mr.
Walters
was
very
serious
and
sincere;
he
respected
sacred
things
and
places
so
much
that,
without
realizing
it,
his
Sunday-school
voice
had
a
special
tone
absent
during
weekdays.
He
began
like
this:
"Now,
children,
I
want
you
all
to
sit
up
straight
and
look
nice,
and
give
me
all
your
attention
for
a
minute
or
two.
There—that's
it.
That's
how
good
little
boys
and
girls
should
behave.
I
see
one
little
girl
looking
out
the
window—I’m
afraid
she
thinks
I’m
out
there
somewhere—maybe
up
in
a
tree
talking
to
the
birds.
[Applausive
titter.]
I
want
to
tell
you
how
happy
it
makes
me
feel
to
see
so
many
bright,
clean
faces
here,
learning
to
do
right
and
be
good."
And
so
on.
It's
not
necessary
to
write
the
rest
of
the
speech.
It’s
familiar
to
us
all.
The
last
part
of
the
speech
was
spoiled
by
the
return
of
fights
and
other
activities
among
some
of
the
bad
boys,
and
by
fidgeting
and
whispering
that
spread
far
and
wide,
even
reaching
the
usually
quiet
and
well-behaved
Sid
and
Mary.
But
suddenly,
every
sound
stopped
when
Mr.
Walters’
voice
ended,
and
the
speech's
conclusion
was
met
with
silent
gratitude.
Much
of
the
whispering
was
caused
by
a
rare
event—the
entrance
of
visitors:
lawyer
Thatcher,
with
a
very
old
and
weak
man;
a
fine,
portly,
middle-aged
gentleman
with
iron-gray
hair;
and
a
dignified
lady
who
was
probably
his
wife.
The
lady
was
leading
a
child.
Tom
had
been
restless
and
full
of
complaints;
he
felt
guilty—he
couldn’t
meet
Amy
Lawrence’s
eye,
couldn’t
bear
her
loving
gaze.
But
when
he
saw
the
small
newcomer,
his
heart
filled
with
joy
in
an
instant.
The
next
moment,
he
was
showing
off
with
all
his
might—hitting
boys,
pulling
hair,
making
faces—using
every
trick
to
impress
a
girl
and
win
her
applause.
His
joy
had
only
one
shadow—the
memory
of
his
shame
in
this
angel’s
garden—but
that
memory
was
quickly
fading
under
the
waves
of
happiness
washing
over
him
now.
The
visitors
were
given
the
highest
seat
of
honor,
and
as
soon
as
Mr.
Walters
finished
his
speech,
he
introduced
them
to
the
school.
The
middle-aged
man
turned
out
to
be
a
very
important
person—the
county
judge—altogether
the
most
impressive
figure
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
impressive
silence
and
the
rows
of
staring
eyes.
This
was
the
great
Judge
Thatcher,
brother
of
their
own
lawyer.
Jeff
Thatcher
immediately
went
forward
to
be
familiar
with
the
great
man
and
be
envied
by
the
school.
It
would
have
been
music
to
his
ears
to
hear
the
whisperings:
"Look
at
him,
Jim!
He’s
going
up
there.
Look!
He’s
going
to
shake
hands
with
him—he
is
shaking
hands
with
him!
By
jings,
don’t
you
wish
you
were
Jeff?"
Mr.
Walters
started
showing
off,
bustling
around
with
official
tasks.
He
gave
orders,
made
decisions,
and
gave
directions
everywhere
he
could.
The
librarian
also
showed
off,
running
around
with
books
in
his
arms,
making
a
fuss.
The
young
lady
teachers
showed
off
by
bending
sweetly
over
their
students,
pointing
fingers
at
naughty
boys,
and
patting
the
good
ones.
The
young
gentlemen
teachers
showed
off
by
scolding
and
paying
attention
to
discipline.
Many
teachers,
both
men
and
women,
found
reasons
to
go
to
the
library
by
the
pulpit,
often
repeating
tasks
with
fake
annoyance.
The
little
girls
showed
off
in
different
ways,
and
the
little
boys
were
so
busy
showing
off
that
paper
wads
flew
everywhere.
Above
it
all,
the
great
man
sat
with
a
proud
smile,
enjoying
his
own
importance,
for
he
was
showing
off
too.
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — B1 Inglés | Cuentana