Chapter 42

           THEoldmanwasuptownagainbeforebreakfast,butcouldn’tgetnotrackofTom;andbothofthemsetatthetablethinking,andnotsayingnothing,andlookingmournful,andtheircoffeegettingcold,andnoteatinganything.Andbyandbytheoldmansays:

           "DidIgiveyoutheletter?"

           "Whatletter?"

           "TheoneIgotyesterdayoutofthepost-office."

           "No,youdidn’tgivemenoletter."

           "Well,Imustaforgotit."

           Soherummagedhispockets,andthenwentoffsomewhereswherehehadlaiditdown,andfetchedit,andgiveittoher.Shesays:

           "Why,it’sfromSt.Petersburgit’sfromSis."

           Iallowedanotherwalkwoulddomegood;butIcouldn’tstir.Butbeforeshecouldbreakitopenshedroppeditandrunforsheseesomething.AndsodidI.ItwasTomSawyeronamattress;andthatolddoctor;andJim,inHERcalicodress,withhishandstiedbehindhim;andalotofpeople.Ihidtheletterbehindthefirstthingthatcomehandy,andrushed.

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