Adventures of Pinocchio | Page 6

more absorbed. Presently he said:
"Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little."
Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:
"No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular
about this fence--right here on the street, you know-- but if it was the back fence I
wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to
be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand,

that can do it the way it's got to be done."
"No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was
me, Tom."
"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't
let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed?
If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--"
"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my
apple."
"Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--"
"I'll give you ALL of it!"
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the
late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel
in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of
more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while;
they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had
traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out,
Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on,
hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor
poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides
the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue
bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a
fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six
fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog- collar--but no dog--the
handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.
He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company-- and the fence had
three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have
bankrupted every boy in the village.
Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a
great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a
boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been
a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have
comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play
consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand
why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling
ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in
England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in
the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were
offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.
The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly

circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.


CHAPTER III
TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a
pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast- room, dining-room, and
library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and
the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her
knitting--for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles
were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had
deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in
this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?"
"What, a'ready? How much have you done?"
"It's all done, aunt."
"Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it."
"I ain't, aunt; it IS all done."
Aunt Polly placed small