{"id":"01KG16R1W47FJ5KYMT6B2D9S99","cid":"bafkreiayjyqa5ybdxng2p5zaxapguyd7xsaqjgojocm7ne2dp5zjc6guky","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":1235,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T02:25:59.960Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","start_line":1176,"text":"All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered “what\r\nhad got into the child.” He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and\r\ndid not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his\r\naunt’s very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said:\r\n\r\n“Aunt, you don’t whack Sid when he takes it.”\r\n\r\n“Well, Sid don’t torment a body the way you do. You’d be always into\r\nthat sugar if I warn’t watching you.”\r\n\r\nPresently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity,\r\nreached for the sugar-bowl—a sort of glorying over Tom which was\r\nwellnigh unbearable. But Sid’s fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and\r\nbroke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled\r\nhis tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a\r\nword, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she\r\nasked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be\r\nnothing so good in the world as to see that pet model “catch it.” He was\r\nso brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old\r\nlady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath\r\nfrom over her spectacles. He said to himself, “Now it’s coming!” And the\r\nnext instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted\r\nto strike again when Tom cried out:\r\n\r\n“Hold on, now, what ’er you belting _me_ for?—Sid broke it!”\r\n\r\nAunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when\r\nshe got her tongue again, she only said:\r\n\r\n“Umf! Well, you didn’t get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some\r\nother audacious mischief when I wasn’t around, like enough.”\r\n\r\nThen her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something\r\nkind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a\r\nconfession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that.\r\nSo she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart.\r\nTom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart\r\nhis aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the\r\nconsciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice\r\nof none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then,\r\nthrough a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured\r\nhimself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching\r\none little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and\r\ndie with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured\r\nhimself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and\r\nhis sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how\r\nher tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back\r\nher boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would\r\nlie there cold and white and make no sign—a poor little sufferer, whose\r\ngriefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of\r\nthese dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke;\r\nand his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked,\r\nand ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to\r\nhim was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any\r\nworldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too\r\nsacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced\r\nin, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit\r\nof one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness\r\nout at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG16PT28AXSFYY37QFHBCVG6","peer_label":"CHAPTER III","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","peer_label":"tom_sawyer.txt","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS","peer_label":"More Classics","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG16R204C8W43KEMWA21MP4J","peer_label":"Chunk 2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG16R1TFJ0Y5079ZJZ0T6X3R","peer_label":"Chunk 4","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T02:26:00.517Z","ts":"2026-01-28T02:26:01.971Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}