{"id":"01KG1795TETC47MEVD9NEFCAJV","cid":"bafkreihq2x36gg3etxaxus34j3nir6u26ynkabsgfyvzfpushisdyrq42u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5167,"extracted_at":"2026-01-28T02:35:21.102Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KG0K71QZ8KK7RGEGSNTB5534","start_line":5085,"text":"“Oh, that’s jolly. Who’s going to give it?”\r\n\r\n“My ma’s going to let me have one.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, goody; I hope she’ll let _me_ come.”\r\n\r\n“Well, she will. The picnic’s for me. She’ll let anybody come that I\r\nwant, and I want you.”\r\n\r\n“That’s ever so nice. When is it going to be?”\r\n\r\n“By and by. Maybe about vacation.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, won’t it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?”\r\n\r\n“Yes, every one that’s friends to me—or wants to be”; and she glanced\r\never so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence\r\nabout the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the\r\ngreat sycamore tree “all to flinders” while he was “standing within\r\nthree feet of it.”\r\n\r\n“Oh, may I come?” said Grace Miller.\r\n\r\n“Yes.”\r\n\r\n“And me?” said Sally Rogers.\r\n\r\n“Yes.”\r\n\r\n“And me, too?” said Susy Harper. “And Joe?”\r\n\r\n“Yes.”\r\n\r\nAnd so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged\r\nfor invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still\r\ntalking, and took Amy with him. Becky’s lips trembled and the tears\r\ncame to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on\r\nchattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of\r\neverything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and\r\nhad what her sex call “a good cry.” Then she sat moody, with wounded\r\npride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast\r\nin her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what\r\n_she’d_ do.\r\n\r\nAt recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant\r\nself-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate\r\nher with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden\r\nfalling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind\r\nthe schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple—and so\r\nabsorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book,\r\nthat they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides.\r\nJealousy ran red-hot through Tom’s veins. He began to hate himself for\r\nthrowing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He\r\ncalled himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He\r\nwanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked,\r\nfor her heart was singing, but Tom’s tongue had lost its function. He\r\ndid not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly\r\nhe could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced\r\nas otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and\r\nagain, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could\r\nnot help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that\r\nBecky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the\r\nliving. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her\r\nfight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered.\r\n\r\nAmy’s happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had\r\nto attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in\r\nvain—the girl chirped on. Tom thought, “Oh, hang her, ain’t I ever going\r\nto get rid of her?” At last he must be attending to those things—and she\r\nsaid artlessly that she would be “around” when school let out. And he\r\nhastened away, hating her for it.\r\n\r\n“Any other boy!” Tom thought, grating his teeth. “Any boy in the whole\r\ntown but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is\r\naristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this\r\ntown, mister, and I’ll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you\r\nout! I’ll just take and—”\r\n\r\nAnd he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy—pummelling\r\nthe air, and kicking and gouging. “Oh, you do, do you? You holler\r\n’nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!” And so the imaginary\r\nflogging was finished to his satisfaction.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG176GPSYC6Z90B110GTYFEM","peer_label":"CHAPTER XVIII","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":"01KG1795T6YYW0KSJBYHZRXH4E","peer_label":"Chunk 3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG1795TEWPBC4C8KQ9NVBRFM","peer_label":"Chunk 5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-28T02:35:21.462Z","ts":"2026-01-28T02:35:22.173Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}