about half-past eleven, and Tom put on Aunt Sally's dress that he stole and was going to start with the lunch, but says:
"Where's the butter?"
"I laid out a hunk of it," I says, "on a piece of a corn-pone."
"Well, you left it laid out, then—it ain't here."
"We can get along without it," I says.
"We can get along with it, too," he says ; "just you slide down cellar and fetch it. And then mosey right down the lightning-rod and come along. I'll go and stuff the straw into Jim's clothes to represent his mother in disguise, and be ready to ba like a sheep and shove soon as you get there."
So out he went, and down cellar went I. The hunk of butter, big as a person's fist, was where I had left it, so I took up the slab of corn-pone with it. on, and blowed out my light, and started upstairs, very stealthy, and got up to the main floor all right, but here comes Aunt Sally with a candle, and I clapped the truck in my hat, and clapped my hat on my head, and the next second she see me; and she says:
"You been down cellar?"
"Yes'm."
"What you been doing down there?"
"Noth'n."
"Noth'n!"
"No'm."
"Well, then, what possessed you to go down there, this time of night?"
"I don't know'm."
"You don't know? Don't answer me that way, Tom, I want to know what you been doing down there?"
"I hain't been doing a single thing, Aunt Sally, I hope to gracious if I have."
I reckoned she'd let me go, now, and as a generl thing she
