Chapter XII

One reason Tom’s mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was that he found a new concern to focus on: Becky Thatcher stopped coming to school. Initially, Tom tried to ignore it all by “whistling her down the wind,” but failed. He started hanging around her father’s house at night and felt very miserable. She was ill, and the thought of losing her distracted him entirely. His interest in war or even piracy faded away; life lost its charm, leaving only dreariness behind. He put his hoop and bat away since there was no joy in them anymore. Aunt Polly noticed his change and began trying various remedies on him.

Aunt Polly was one of those people fascinated by patent medicines and new health trends. She eagerly tried out everything from the latest “Health” magazines to phrenological fads, taking their advice seriously without noticing contradictions between issues. As simple-hearted as she was honest, she didn’t realize she wasn’t always an angel of healing to her neighbors.

The water treatment was a new trend at that time, and Tom’s low condition made him an ideal candidate for it in Aunt Polly’s eyes. Every morning at dawn, she stood him up in the woodshed, dousing him with cold water before scrubbing him down with a towel like a file. She then wrapped him in a wet sheet under blankets to induce sweating. Despite all this effort, Tom grew more melancholic and pale.

Aunt Polly added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges to the regimen. Seeing no improvement, she introduced a slim oatmeal diet and blister plasters while calculating his daily intake of quack remedies like measuring a jug’s capacity.

By this time, Tom had become indifferent to persecution. This indifference alarmed Aunt Polly deeply; it must be broken up at any cost. She discovered Pain-killer and ordered a large supply immediately. The fiery liquid brought her great relief, as Tom quickly showed an enthusiastic interest in it, unlike anything seen before when she tried other remedies.

Tom realized he needed to change his approach and decided to pretend he liked Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that Aunt Polly eventually told him to help himself without bothering her. Had it been Sid, she would have had no doubts about her delight, but with Tom, she watched the bottle secretly, noticing its gradual decrease.

One day, while dosing a crack in the sitting-room floor, Aunt Polly’s yellow cat named Peter approached, eyeing the teaspoon greedily and begging for a taste. Tom warned him not to ask unless he wanted it, but Peter was eager. After giving him Pain-killer, Peter sprang into the air, went round the room in a frenzy of joy, knocking over furniture and causing chaos before disappearing through an open window. Aunt Polly stood petrified with astonishment as Tom laughed.

“What on earth ails that cat?” she asked.

“I don’t know, aunt,” gasped Tom.

“Why, I’ve never seen anything like it. What did make him act so?”

“Cats always act like this when they’re having a good time.”

“They do? There’s something in your tone…”

“Yes’m. That is, I believe they do.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes’m,” Tom said.

Aunt Polly bent down to inspect and noticed the telltale teaspoon handle under the bed valance. She took it, held it up, and cracked Tom on the head with her thimble for treating Peter that way. Tom explained he did it out of pity because Peter didn’t have an aunt like him who’d “burn” him otherwise.

Aunt Polly felt a pang of remorse, realizing cruelty to a cat might reflect on how she treated Tom. She softened, feeling sorry and expressing regret gently. The conversation led her to encourage Tom not to take more medicine.

Tom reached school earlier than usual, noticed by others. As was his habit now, he lingered at the gate instead of playing with his friends, citing illness. He watched for Jeff Thatcher but tried in vain to draw comments about Becky. When a familiar frock finally passed, Tom’s heart leapt. Yet when he approached boldly, Becky turned away indifferently.

“Mf! Some people think they’re mighty smart—always showing off!” she remarked coldly.

Tom’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He sneaked away, crushed and crestfallen by the realization that perhaps Becky was not even aware of his presence.