but after a while with the subsidence of the storm, both began to
settle toward their former places. He dropped gradually back into his
old frivolous and easygoing ways and conditions of feeling and manner
of speech, and no familiar of his could have detected anything in him that
differentiated him from the weak and careless Tom of other days.
The theft raid which he had made upon the village turned out better than
he had ventured to hope. It produced the sum necessary to pay
his gaming debts, and saved him from exposure to his uncle and
another smashing of the will. He and his mother learned to like
each other fairly well. She couldn’t love him, as yet,
because there “warn’t nothing _to_ him,” as she expressed it,
but her nature needed something or somebody to rule over,
and he was better than nothing. Her strong character and aggressive
and commanding ways compelled Tom’s admiration in spite of the fact
that he got more illustrations of them than he needed for his comfort.
However, as a rule her conversation was made up of racy tale about the
privacies of the chief families of the town (for she went harvesting
among their kitchens every time she came to the village),
and Tom enjoyed this. It was just in his line. She always collected
her half of his pension punctually, and he was always at the haunted
house to have a chat with her on these occasions. Every now and then,
she paid him a visit there on between-days also.
Occasions he would run up to St. Louis for a few weeks, and at last
temptation caught him again. He won a lot of money, but lost it,
and with it a deal more besides, which he promised to raise as
soon as possible.
For this purpose he projected a new raid on his town. He never meddled
with any other town, for he was afraid to venture into houses whose
ins and outs he did not know and the habits of whose households he
was not acquainted with. He arrived at the haunted house in disguise
on the Wednesday before the advent of the twins–after writing his
Aunt Pratt that he would not arrive until two days after–and laying
in hiding there with his mother until toward daylight Friday morning,
when he went to his uncle’s house and entered by the back way with his
own key, and slipped up to his room where he could have the use of the
mirror and toilet articles. He had a suit of girl’s clothes with him in a
bundle as a disguise for his raid, and was wearing a suit of his
mother’s clothing, with black gloves and veil. By dawn he was tricked out
for his raid, but he caught a glimpse of Pudd’nhead Wilson through the
window over the way, and knew that Pudd’nhead had caught a glimpse of him.
So he entertained Wilson with some airs and graces and attitudes
for a while, then stepped out of sight and resumed the other disguise,
and by and by went down and out the back way and started downtown
to reconnoiter the scene of his intended labors.
But he was ill at ease. He had changed back to Roxy’s dress,
with the stoop of age added to he disguise, so that Wilson
would not bother himself about a humble old women leaving a
neighbor’s house by the back way in the early morning, in case he
was still spying. But supposing Wilson had seen him leave,
and had thought it suspicious, and had also followed him?
The thought made Tom cold. He gave up the raid for the day,
and hurried back to the haunted house by the obscurest route he knew.
His mother was gone; but she came back, by and by, with the news
of the grand reception at Patsy Cooper’s, and soon persuaded him
that the opportunity was like a special Providence, it was so
inviting and perfect. So he went raiding, after all, and made a
nice success of it while everybody was gone to Patsy Cooper’s.
Success gave him nerve and even actual intrepidity; insomuch,
indeed, that after he had conveyed his harvest to his mother in a