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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Mark Twain

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I wondered what poor little Lisa's early death would save her from. He answered the thought:

 

“I said: 'Smoke along, then, if it is the custom, though I think that the conceding of a privilege to a burglar which is denied to a bishop is a conspicuous sign of the looseness of the times. But waiving all that, what business have you to be entering this house in this furtive and clandestine way, without ringing the burglar alarm?'

 

“And you are not you—you have no body, no blood, no bones, you are but a thought. I myself have no existence; I am but a dream—your dream, creature of your imagination. In a moment you will have realized this, then you will banish me from your visions and I shall dissolve into the nothingness out of which you made me....

 

“He is doing it now—betraying her. In three days she will go to the stake.”

 

“That settles it,” he said. “I know the thief now. Lads, the money was stolen.”

 

“Oh, don’t cry, Becky, I don’t care for her any more.”

 

“Dream! If them stairs hadn’t broke down you’d ’a’ seen how much dream it was! I’ve had dreams enough all night—with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through ’em—rot him!”

 

“Sid, there’s only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that’s you. If you had been in Huck’s place you’d ’a’ sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can’t do any but mean things, and you can’t bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There—no thanks, as the widow says”—and Tom cuffed Sid’s ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. “Now go and tell auntie if you dare—and tomorrow you’ll catch it!”

 

And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of “How sweet!” “How eloquent!” “So true!” etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic.

 

THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and “maow,” whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve.

 

Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the King had cowed with the soldering-iron; they took the boy out on a tinkering tramp, and as soon as they were out of sight of the camp they threw him down and the tinker held him while Hugo bound the poultice tight and fast upon his leg.

 

“I would I knew what ’tis about!” he exclaimed, with all a boy’s curiosity in such happenings.

 

The King’s manner changed at once.  He cried out—

 

“Mates, he is my son, a dreamer, a fool, and stark mad—mind him not—he thinketh he is the King.”

 

Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out something at hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate difficulties and to be ready for them—

 

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