Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (popular novels TXT) 📕

I judged we had got everything fixed about right now.  So I says:

“Just let the auction go right along, and don’t worry.  Nobody don’t have to pay for the things they buy till a whole day after the auction on accounts of the short notice, and they ain’t going out of this till they get that money; and the way we’ve fixed it the sale ain’t going to count, and they ain’t going to get no money.  It’s just like the way it was with the niggers—it warn’t no sale, and the niggers will be back before long.  Why, they can’t collect the money for the niggers yet—they’re in the worst kind of a fix, Miss Mary.”

“Well,” she says, “I’ll run down to breakfast now, and then I’ll start straight for Mr. Lothrop’s.”

“’Deed, that ain’t the ticket, Miss Mary Jane,” I says, “by no manner of means; go before breakfast.”

“Why?”

“What did you reckon I wanted you to go at all for, Miss Mary?”

“Well, I never thought—and come to think, I don’t know.  What was it?”

“Why, it’s because you ain’t one of these leather-face people.  I don’t want no better book than what your face is.  A body can set down and read it off like coarse print.  Do you reckon you can go and face your uncles when they come to kiss you good-morning, and never—”

“There, there, don’t!  Yes, I’ll go before breakfast—I’ll be glad to. And leave my sisters with them?”

“Yes; never mind about them.  They’ve got to stand it yet a while.  They might suspicion something if all of you was to go.  I don’t want you to see them, nor your sisters, nor nobody in this town; if a neighbor was to ask how is your uncles this morning your face would tell something.  No, you go right along, Miss Mary Jane, and I’ll fix it with all of them. I’ll tell Miss Susan to give your love to your uncles and say you’ve went away for a few hours for to get a little rest and change, or to see a friend, and you’ll be back to-night or early in the morning.”

“Gone to see a friend is all right, but I won’t have my love given to them.”

“Well, then, it sha’n’t be.”  It was well enough to tell her so—no harm in it.  It was only a little thing to do, and no trouble; and it’s the little things that smooths people’s roads the most, down here below; it would make Mary Jane comfortable, and it wouldn’t cost nothing.  Then I says:  "There’s one more thing—that bag of money.”

“Well, they’ve got that; and it makes me feel pretty silly to think how they got it.”

“No, you’re out, there.  They hain’t got it.”

“Why, who’s got it?”

“I wish I knowed, but I don’t.  I had it, because I stole it from them; and I stole it to give to you; and I know where I hid it, but I’m afraid it ain’t there no more.  I’m awful sorry, Miss Mary Jane, I’m just as sorry as I can be; but I done the best I could; I did honest.  I come nigh getting caught, and I had to shove it into the first place I come to, and run—and it warn’t a good place.”

“Oh, stop blaming yourself—it’s too bad to do it, and I won’t allow it—you couldn’t help it; it wasn’t your fault.  Where did you hide it?”

I didn’t want to set her to thinking about her troubles again; and I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to tell her what would make her see that corpse laying in the coffin with that bag of money on his stomach.  So for a minute I didn’t say nothing; then I says:

“I’d ruther not tell you where I put it, Miss Mary Jane, if you don’t mind letting me off; but I’ll write it for you on a piece of paper, and you can read it along the road to Mr. Lothrop’s, if you want to.  Do you reckon that ’ll do?”

“Oh, yes.”

So I wrote:  "I put it in the coffin.  It was in there when you was crying there, away in the night.  I was behind the door, and I was mighty sorry for you, Miss Mary Jane.”