wheel.     

       “Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!” The left hand began to describe circles.     

       “Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! lively now! Come—out with your spring-line—what’re you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now—let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH’T! S’H’T! SH’T!” (trying the gauge-cocks).     

       Tom went on whitewashing—paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: “Hi-Yi! You’re up a stump, ain’t you!”     

       No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom’s mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said:     

       “Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?”     

       Tom wheeled suddenly and said:     

       “Why, it’s you, Ben! I warn’t noticing.”     

       “Say—I’m going in a-swimming, I am. Don’t you wish you could? But of course you’d druther work—wouldn’t you? Course you would!”     

       Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:     

       “What do you call work?”     

       “Why, ain’t that work?”     

       Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:     

       “Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer.”     

       “Oh come, now, you don’t mean to let on that you like it?”     

       The brush continued to move.     

 Prev. P 12/194 next