“Why, no; I--I--well, no, I b'lieve I didn't.” Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says: “Tom, didn't _you_ think Aunt Sally 'd open out her arms and say, 'Sid Sawyer--'” “My land!” she says, breaking in and jumping for him, “you impudent young rascal, to fool a body so--” and was going to hug him, but he fended her off, and says: “No, not till you've asked me first.” So she didn't lose no time, but asked him; and hugged him and kissed him over and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and he took what was left.  And after they got a little quiet again she says: “Why, dear me, I never see such a surprise.  We warn't looking for _you_ at all, but only Tom.  Sis never wrote to me about anybody coming but him.” “It's because it warn't _intended_ for any of us to come but Tom,” he says; “but I begged and begged, and at the last minute she let me come, too; so, coming down the river, me and Tom thought it would be a first-rate surprise for him to come here to the house first, and for me to by and by tag along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger.  But it was a mistake, Aunt Sally.  This ain't no healthy place for a stranger to come.” “No--not impudent whelps, Sid.  You ought to had your jaws boxed; I hain't been so put out since I don't know when.  But I don't care, I don't mind the terms--I'd be willing to stand a thousand such jokes to have you here. Well, to think of that performance!  I don't deny it, I was most putrified with astonishment when you give me that smack.” We had dinner out in that broad open passage betwixt the house and the kitchen; and there was things enough on that table for seven families--and all hot, too; none of your flabby, tough meat that's laid in a cupboard in a damp cellar all night and tastes like a hunk of old cold cannibal in the morning.  Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessing over it, but it was worth it; and it didn't cool it a bit, neither, the way I've seen them kind of interruptions do