 However, even inquests went out of vogue
at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience.
    Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity
and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts
through to the murderer as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little
brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were
afforded for it; indeed it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped
to ease Tom's conscience.
    The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him
on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody
could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was
dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the
fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was
deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.
 

                                   Chapter 12

One of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was,
that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky
Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few
days, and tried to whistle her down the wind, but failed. He began to find
himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable.
She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no
longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone;
there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there
was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner
of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent
medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was
an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line
came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was
never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all
the Health periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they
were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the rot they contained about
ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what
to drink, and how much exercise to
