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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 20, Página 2
“You
ought
to
be
ashamed
of
yourself,
Tom
Sawyer;
you
know
you’re
going
to
tell
on
me,
and
oh,
what
shall
I
do,
what
shall
I
do!
I’ll
be
whipped,
and
I
never
was
whipped
in
school.”
Then
she
stamped
her
little
foot
and
said:
“Be
so
mean
if
you
want
to!
I
know
something
that’s
going
to
happen.
You
just
wait
and
you’ll
see!
Hateful,
hateful,
hateful!”—and
she
flung
out
of
the
house
with
a
new
explosion
of
crying.
Tom
stood
still,
rather
flustered
by
this
onslaught.
Presently
he
said
to
himself:
“What
a
curious
kind
of
a
fool
a
girl
is!
Never
been
licked
in
school!
Shucks!
What’s
a
licking!
That’s
just
like
a
girl—they’re
so
thin-skinned
and
chicken-hearted.
Well,
of
course
I
ain’t
going
to
tell
old
Dobbins
on
this
little
fool,
because
there’s
other
ways
of
getting
even
on
her,
that
ain’t
so
mean;
but
what
of
it?
Old
Dobbins
will
ask
who
it
was
tore
his
book.
Nobody’ll
answer.
Then
he’ll
do
just
the
way
he
always
does—ask
first
one
and
then
t’other,
and
when
he
comes
to
the
right
girl
he’ll
know
it,
without
any
telling.
Girls’
faces
always
tell
on
them.
They
ain’t
got
any
backbone.
She’ll
get
licked.
Well,
it’s
a
kind
of
a
tight
place
for
Becky
Thatcher,
because
there
ain’t
any
way
out
of
it.”
Tom
conned
the
thing
a
moment
longer,
and
then
added:
“All
right,
though;
she’d
like
to
see
me
in
just
such
a
fix—let
her
sweat
it
out!”
Tom
joined
the
mob
of
skylarking
scholars
outside.
In
a
few
moments
the
master
arrived
and
school
“took
in.”
Tom
did
not
feel
a
strong
interest
in
his
studies.
Every
time
he
stole
a
glance
at
the
girls’
side
of
the
room
Becky’s
face
troubled
him.
Considering
all
things,
he
did
not
want
to
pity
her,
and
yet
it
was
all
he
could
do
to
help
it.
He
could
get
up
no
exultation
that
was
really
worthy
the
name.
Presently
the
spelling-book
discovery
was
made,
and
Tom’s
mind
was
entirely
full
of
his
own
matters
for
a
while
after
that.
Becky
roused
up
from
her
lethargy
of
distress
and
showed
good
interest
in
the
proceedings.
She
did
not
expect
that
Tom
could
get
out
of
his
trouble
by
denying
that
he
spilt
the
ink
on
the
book
himself;
and
she
was
right.
The
denial
only
seemed
to
make
the
thing
worse
for
Tom.
Becky
supposed
she
would
be
glad
of
that,
and
she
tried
to
believe
she
was
glad
of
it,
but
she
found
she
was
not
certain.
When
the
worst
came
to
the
worst,
she
had
an
impulse
to
get
up
and
tell
on
Alfred
Temple,
but
she
made
an
effort
and
forced
herself
to
keep
still—because,
said
she
to
herself,
“he’ll
tell
about
me
tearing
the
picture
sure.
I
wouldn’t
say
a
word,
not
to
save
his
life!”
Tom
took
his
whipping
and
went
back
to
his
seat
not
at
all
broken-hearted,
for
he
thought
it
was
possible
that
he
had
unknowingly
upset
the
ink
on
the
spelling-book
himself,
in
some
skylarking
bout—he
had
denied
it
for
form’s
sake
and
because
it
was
custom,
and
had
stuck
to
the
denial
from
principle.
A
whole
hour
drifted
by,
the
master
sat
nodding
in
his
throne,
the
air
was
drowsy
with
the
hum
of
study.
By
and
by,
Mr.
Dobbins
straightened
himself
up,
yawned,
then
unlocked
his
desk,
and
reached
for
his
book,
but
seemed
undecided
whether
to
take
it
out
or
leave
it.
Most
of
the
pupils
glanced
up
languidly,
but
there
were
two
among
them
that
watched
his
movements
with
intent
eyes.
Mr.
Dobbins
fingered
his
book
absently
for
a
while,
then
took
it
out
and
settled
himself
in
his
chair
to
read!
Tom
shot
a
glance
at
Becky.
He
had
seen
a
hunted
and
helpless
rabbit
look
as
she
did,
with
a
gun
levelled
at
its
head.
Instantly
he
forgot
his
quarrel
with
her.
Quick—something
must
be
done!
done
in
a
flash,
too!
But
the
very
imminence
of
the
emergency
paralyzed
his
invention.
Good!—he
had
an
inspiration!
He
would
run
and
snatch
the
book,
spring
through
the
door
and
fly.
But
his
resolution
shook
for
one
little
instant,
and
the
chance
was
lost—the
master
opened
the
volume.
If
Tom
only
had
the
wasted
opportunity
back
again!
Too
late.
There
was
no
help
for
Becky
now,
he
said.
The
next
moment
the
master
faced
the
school.
Every
eye
sank
under
his
gaze.
There
was
that
in
it
which
smote
even
the
innocent
with
fear.
There
was
silence
while
one
might
count
ten—the
master
was
gathering
his
wrath.
Then
he
spoke:
“Who
tore
this
book?”
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — C1 Inglés | Cuentana