Everbooks Editorial

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer (Extended Edition) – By Mark Twain


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      THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

      EXTENDED EDITION

      BY MARK TWAIN

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      INDEX

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       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       CHAPTER VIII

       CHAPTER IX

       CHAPTER X

       CHAPTER XI

       CHAPTER XII

       CHAPTER XIII

       CHAPTER XIV

       CHAPTER XV

       CHAPTER XVI

       CHAPTER XVII

       CHAPTER XVIII

       CHAPTER XIX

       CHAPTER XX

       CHAPTER XXI

       CHAPTER XXII

       CHAPTER XXIII

       CHAPTER XXIV

       CHAPTER XXV

       CHAPTER XXVI

       CHAPTER XXVII

       CHAPTER XXVIII

       CHAPTER XXIX

       CHAPTER XXX

       CHAPTER XXXI

       CHAPTER XXXII

       CHAPTER XXXIII

       CHAPTER XXXIV

       CHAPTER XXXV

       CONCLUSION

       PUBLIC DOMAIN COPYRIGHTS

      EXTENDED CONTENT

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       BOOK INTRODUCTION

      BOOK PLOT SUMMARY

       BOOK CRITICAL ANALYSIS

      THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER

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      “TOM!”

      No answer.

      “TOM!”

      No answer.

      “What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!”

      No answer.

      The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for “style,” not service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:

      “Well, I lay if I get hold of you I’ll—”

      She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.

      “I never did see the beat of that boy!”

      She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and “jimpson” weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:

      “Y-o-u-u TOM!”

      There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.

      “There! I might ’a’ thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?”

      “Nothing.”