I wish I may never stir if it does Tom Sawyer
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MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer terrible (and very unhappy). Monday morning always found him so—because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no (in-between/helping) holiday, it made the going into (state of being captured or in prison) and ankle chains again so much more terrible/highly offensive.
Tom lay thinking. Now it entered his mind that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was an unclear possibility. He (interviewed people/talked to people) his system. No sickness was found, and he (examined closely so the truth can be found) again. This time he thought he could detect (crying a lot from stomach pain) signs of sickness, and he began to encourage them with (large/relatively large) hope. But they soon grew weak, and now died completely away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to (make a deep, long sound of suffering), as a "starter," as he called it, when it entered his mind that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and look (for) further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for (careful examination of something). But now he did not know the necessary signs of sickness. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to (making a deep, long sound of suffering) with (large/relatively large) spirit.
But Sid slept on unconscious.
Tom (made a deep, long sound of suffering) louder, and imagined that he began to feel pain in the toe.
No result from Sid.
Tom was panting with his hard work by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a series of good (makes a deep, long sound of suffering).
Sid (made loud breathing sounds while sleeping) on.
Tom was (irritated/made worse). He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to (make a deep, long sound of suffering) again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on (making a deep, long sound of suffering). Sid said:
"Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face nervously.
Tom moaned out:
"Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me."
"Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie."
"No—never mind. It'll be over as time goes/went on, maybe. Don't call anybody."
"But I must! Don't (deep, long sound of suffering) so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?"
"Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me."
"Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, don't! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?"
"I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone—"
"Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom—oh, don't. Maybe—"
"I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell them so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her—"
But Sid had grabbed his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so attractively/richly was his imagination working, and so his (deep, long, sounds of suffering) had gathered quite a real/honest tone.
Sid flew downstairs and said:
"Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!"
"Dying!"
"Yes'm. Don't wait—come quick!"
"Rubbage! I don't believe it!"
But she ran away/escaped upstairs, anyway, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip shook (with fear or emotion). When she reached the bedside she (suddenly took a short breath in) out:
"You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?"
"Oh, auntie, I'm—"
"What's the matter with you—what is the matter with you, child?"
"Oh, auntie, my sore toe's (extremely embarrassed OR killed)!"
The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: