-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Марк Твен
-
- Приключения Тома Сойера
-
- Стр. 74/197
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
And
you
do
talk
such
stuff
,
"
Sid
said
.
"
Last
night
you
said
,
'
It
's
blood
,
it
's
blood
,
that
's
what
it
is
!
'
You
said
that
over
and
over
.
And
you
said
,
'D
o
n't
torment
me
so
--
I
'll
tell
!
'
Tell
WHAT
?
What
is
it
you
'll
tell
?
"
Everything
was
swimming
before
Tom
.
There
is
no
telling
what
might
have
happened
,
now
,
but
luckily
the
concern
passed
out
of
Aunt
Polly
's
face
and
she
came
to
Tom
's
relief
without
knowing
it
.
She
said
:
"
Sho
!
It
's
that
dreadful
murder
.
I
dream
about
it
most
every
night
myself
.
Sometimes
I
dream
it
's
me
that
done
it
.
"
Mary
said
she
had
been
affected
much
the
same
way
.
Sid
seemed
satisfied
.
Tom
got
out
of
the
presence
as
quick
as
he
plausibly
could
,
and
after
that
he
complained
of
toothache
for
a
week
,
and
tied
up
his
jaws
every
night
.
He
never
knew
that
Sid
lay
nightly
watching
,
and
frequently
slipped
the
bandage
free
and
then
leaned
on
his
elbow
listening
a
good
while
at
a
time
,
and
afterward
slipped
the
bandage
back
to
its
place
again
.
Tom
's
distress
of
mind
wore
off
gradually
and
the
toothache
grew
irksome
and
was
discarded
.
If
Sid
really
managed
to
make
anything
out
of
Tom
's
disjointed
mutterings
,
he
kept
it
to
himself
.
It
seemed
to
Tom
that
his
schoolmates
never
would
get
done
holding
inquests
on
dead
cats
,
and
thus
keeping
his
trouble
present
to
his
mind
.
Sid
noticed
that
Tom
never
was
coroner
at
one
of
these
inquiries
,
though
it
had
been
his
habit
to
take
the
lead
in
all
new
enterprises
;
he
noticed
,
too
,
that
Tom
never
acted
as
a
witness
--
and
that
was
strange
;
and
Sid
did
not
overlook
the
fact
that
Tom
even
showed
a
marked
aversion
to
these
inquests
,
and
always
avoided
them
when
he
could
.
Sid
marvelled
,
but
said
nothing
.
However
,
even
inquests
went
out
of
vogue
at
last
,
and
ceased
to
torture
Tom
's
conscience
.
Every
day
or
two
,
during
this
time
of
sorrow
,
Tom
watched
his
opportunity
and
went
to
the
little
grated
jail-window
and
smuggled
such
small
comforts
through
to
the
"
murderer
"
as
he
could
get
hold
of
.
The
jail
was
a
trifling
little
brick
den
that
stood
in
a
marsh
at
the
edge
of
the
village
,
and
no
guards
were
afforded
for
it
;
indeed
,
it
was
seldom
occupied
.
These
offerings
greatly
helped
to
ease
Tom
's
conscience
.
The
villagers
had
a
strong
desire
to
tar-and-feather
Injun
Joe
and
ride
him
on
a
rail
,
for
body-snatching
,
but
so
formidable
was
his
character
that
nobody
could
be
found
who
was
willing
to
take
the
lead
in
the
matter
,
so
it
was
dropped
.
He
had
been
careful
to
begin
both
of
his
inquest-statements
with
the
fight
,
without
confessing
the
grave-robbery
that
preceded
it
;
therefore
it
was
deemed
wisest
not
to
try
the
case
in
the
courts
at
present
.
One
of
the
reasons
why
Tom
's
mind
had
drifted
away
from
its
secret
troubles
was
,
that
it
had
found
a
new
and
weighty
matter
to
interest
itself
about
.
Becky
Thatcher
had
stopped
coming
to
school
.
Tom
had
struggled
with
his
pride
a
few
days
,
and
tried
to
"
whistle
her
down
the
wind
,
"
but
failed
.
He
began
to
find
himself
hanging
around
her
father
's
house
,
nights
,
and
feeling
very
miserable
.
She
was
ill
.
What
if
she
should
die
!
There
was
distraction
in
the
thought
.
He
no
longer
took
an
interest
in
war
,
nor
even
in
piracy
.
The
charm
of
life
was
gone
;
there
was
nothing
but
dreariness
left
.
He
put
his
hoop
away
,
and
his
bat
;
there
was
no
joy
in
them
any
more
.
His
aunt
was
concerned
.
She
began
to
try
all
manner
of
remedies
on
him
.
She
was
one
of
those
people
who
are
infatuated
with
patent
medicines
and
all
new-fangled
methods
of
producing
health
or
mending
it
.
She
was
an
inveterate
experimenter
in
these
things
.
When
something
fresh
in
this
line
came
out
she
was
in
a
fever
,
right
away
,
to
try
it
;
not
on
herself
,
for
she
was
never
ailing
,
but
on
anybody
else
that
came
handy
.
She
was
a
subscriber
for
all
the
"
Health
"
periodicals
and
phrenological
frauds
;
and
the
solemn
ignorance
they
were
inflated
with
was
breath
to
her
nostrils
.
All
the
"
rot
"
they
contained
about
ventilation
,
and
how
to
go
to
bed
,
and
how
to
get
up
,
and
what
to
eat
,
and
what
to
drink
,
and
how
much
exercise
to
take
,
and
what
frame
of
mind
to
keep
one
's
self
in
,
and
what
sort
of
clothing
to
wear
,
was
all
gospel
to
her
,
and
she
never
observed
that
her
health-journals
of
the
current
month
customarily
upset
everything
they
had
recommended
the
month
before
.
She
was
as
simple-hearted
and
honest
as
the
day
was
long
,
and
so
she
was
an
easy
victim
.
She
gathered
together
her
quack
periodicals
and
her
quack
medicines
,
and
thus
armed
with
death
,
went
about
on
her
pale
horse
,
metaphorically
speaking
,
with
"
hell
following
after
.
"
But
she
never
suspected
that
she
was
not
an
angel
of
healing
and
the
balm
of
Gilead
in
disguise
,
to
the
suffering
neighbors
.
The
water
treatment
was
new
,
now
,
and
Tom
's
low
condition
was
a
windfall
to
her
.
She
had
him
out
at
daylight
every
morning
,
stood
him
up
in
the
woodshed
and
drowned
him
with
a
deluge
of
cold
water
;
then
she
scrubbed
him
down
with
a
towel
like
a
file
,
and
so
brought
him
to
;
then
she
rolled
him
up
in
a
wet
sheet
and
put
him
away
under
blankets
till
she
sweated
his
soul
clean
and
"
the
yellow
stains
of
it
came
through
his
pores
"
--
as
Tom
said
.