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"
Is
it
genuwyne
?
"
Tom
lifted
his
lip
and
showed
the
vacancy
.
"
Well
,
all
right
,
"
said
Huckleberry
,
"
it
's
a
trade
.
"
Tom
enclosed
the
tick
in
the
percussion-cap
box
that
had
lately
been
the
pinchbug
's
prison
,
and
the
boys
separated
,
each
feeling
wealthier
than
before
.
When
Tom
reached
the
little
isolated
frame
schoolhouse
,
he
strode
in
briskly
,
with
the
manner
of
one
who
had
come
with
all
honest
speed
.
He
hung
his
hat
on
a
peg
and
flung
himself
into
his
seat
with
business-like
alacrity
.
The
master
,
throned
on
high
in
his
great
splint-bottom
arm-chair
,
was
dozing
,
lulled
by
the
drowsy
hum
of
study
.
The
interruption
roused
him
.
"
Thomas
Sawyer
!
"
Tom
knew
that
when
his
name
was
pronounced
in
full
,
it
meant
trouble
.
"
Sir
!
"
"
Come
up
here
.
Now
,
sir
,
why
are
you
late
again
,
as
usual
?
"
