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"
Becky
,
I
--
I
do
n't
care
for
anybody
but
you
.
"
No
reply
--
but
sobs
.
"
Becky
"
--
pleadingly
.
"
Becky
,
wo
n't
you
say
something
?
"
More
sobs
.
Tom
got
out
his
chiefest
jewel
,
a
brass
knob
from
the
top
of
an
andiron
,
and
passed
it
around
her
so
that
she
could
see
it
,
and
said
:
"
Please
,
Becky
,
wo
n't
you
take
it
?
"
She
struck
it
to
the
floor
.
Then
Tom
marched
out
of
the
house
and
over
the
hills
and
far
away
,
to
return
to
school
no
more
that
day
.
Presently
Becky
began
to
suspect
.
She
ran
to
the
door
;
he
was
not
in
sight
;
she
flew
around
to
the
play-yard
;
he
was
not
there
.
Then
she
called
:
"
Tom
!
Come
back
,
Tom
!
"
She
listened
intently
,
but
there
was
no
answer
.
She
had
no
companions
but
silence
and
loneliness
.
So
she
sat
down
to
cry
again
and
upbraid
herself
;
and
by
this
time
the
scholars
began
to
gather
again
,
and
she
had
to
hide
her
griefs
and
still
her
broken
heart
and
take
up
the
cross
of
a
long
,
dreary
,
aching
afternoon
,
with
none
among
the
strangers
about
her
to
exchange
sorrows
with
.
Tom
dodged
hither
and
thither
through
lanes
until
he
was
well
out
of
the
track
of
returning
scholars
,
and
then
fell
into
a
moody
jog
.
He
crossed
a
small
"
branch
"
two
or
three
times
,
because
of
a
prevailing
juvenile
superstition
that
to
cross
water
baffled
pursuit
.
Half
an
hour
later
he
was
disappearing
behind
the
Douglas
mansion
on
the
summit
of
Cardiff
Hill
,
and
the
schoolhouse
was
hardly
distinguishable
away
off
in
the
valley
behind
him
.
He
entered
a
dense
wood
,
picked
his
pathless
way
to
the
centre
of
it
,
and
sat
down
on
a
mossy
spot
under
a
spreading
oak
.
There
was
not
even
a
zephyr
stirring
;
the
dead
noonday
heat
had
even
stilled
the
songs
of
the
birds
;
nature
lay
in
a
trance
that
was
broken
by
no
sound
but
the
occasional
far-off
hammering
of
a
woodpecker
,
and
this
seemed
to
render
the
pervading
silence
and
sense
of
loneliness
the
more
profound
.
The
boy
's
soul
was
steeped
in
melancholy
;
his
feelings
were
in
happy
accord
with
his
surroundings
.
He
sat
long
with
his
elbows
on
his
knees
and
his
chin
in
his
hands
,
meditating
.
It
seemed
to
him
that
life
was
but
a
trouble
,
at
best
,
and
he
more
than
half
envied
Jimmy
Hodges
,
so
lately
released
;
it
must
be
very
peaceful
,
he
thought
,
to
lie
and
slumber
and
dream
forever
and
ever
,
with
the
wind
whispering
through
the
trees
and
caressing
the
grass
and
the
flowers
over
the
grave
,
and
nothing
to
bother
and
grieve
about
,
ever
any
more
.
If
he
only
had
a
clean
Sunday-school
record
he
could
be
willing
to
go
,
and
be
done
with
it
all
.
Now
as
to
this
girl
.
What
had
he
done
?
Nothing
.
He
had
meant
the
best
in
the
world
,
and
been
treated
like
a
dog
--
like
a
very
dog
.
She
would
be
sorry
some
day
--
maybe
when
it
was
too
late
.
Ah
,
if
he
could
only
die
TEMPORARILY
!
