“I shall find friends if I deserve them,” he reflected, “and I don't mean to do anything dishonorable or wrong. I am willing to work, and I believe I can make a living.”
Leaving him to proceed, we go back to the poor-house, where his absence was not noticed till morning.
Joe Tucker, in spite of the blow which his nasal organ had received, slept pretty comfortably, and was awakened2 at an early hour by his vigilant3 spouse4.
“You'd better go up and wake that boy and set him to work, Mr. Tucker,” she said. “There are plenty of chores for him to do.”
“You are right, Abigail,” said Mr. Tucker, with approval. He reflected that he could assign to Philip some of the work which generally fell to himself, and the reflection was an agreeable one. He had tried to get work out of Zeke, but he generally found that it was harder to keep him at work than it was to do the job himself.
After he had made his toilet—not a very elaborate one—Mr. Tucker went up-stairs to arouse his young prisoner. He found the key in the outside of the door. Everything seemed right.
“I wonder how he feels this morning?” chuckled5 Mr. Tucker. “Wonder whether he's tamed down a little?”
He turned the key in the lock and threw open the door. He glanced at the bed, started in amazement6 to find that it had not been slept in, and then his wonder ceased, for the telltale rope explained how the boy had escaped.
He ran down-stairs in anger and excitement.
“What's the matter with you, Joe Tucker?” demanded his wife. “Are you drunk or crazy?”
“Enough to make me both, wife,” he answered. “The boy's gone!”
“Gone!” exclaimed Mrs. Tucker, stopping short, with a saucepan in her hand.
“Gone!” ejaculated Zeke, his mouth wide open.
“I don't believe it,” said Mrs. Tucker positively7. “He couldn't go. He'd have to jump out of the third-story window.”
“Sure enough!” said Zeke.
“I can't help it—he's gone,” declared Mr. Tucker. “He tied a clothesline to the bedstead and let himself down from the window. Now, I want to know who left a clothesline in the room?”
“There wasn't any,” said Mrs. Tucker.
“Maybe he had one in his pocket,” suggested Zeke.
“Now I know who hit me in the nose!” exclaimed Mr. Tucker, light flashing upon him. “There was two of 'em—the ones I took for burglars.”
“Then the other one must have been Frank Dunbar,” said Mrs. Tucker.
“Zeke,” said his father, “go right off and tell Squire9 Pope that Philip Gray has escaped. Ask him if I can't have him arrested for assault and battery. It's likely he's at Frank Dunbar's now. We'll have him back before the day is out, and then I'll see he don't get out!”
“All right, dad! As soon as I've had breakfast I'll go.”
The result of Zeke's message was that Squire Pope hurried over to the poorhouse and held a conference with Mr. and Mrs. Tucker.
The next step was that he and Joe rode over to Mr. Dunbar's, to demand the return of the fugitive10.
They found Frank splitting wood in the yard. To him they made known their errand, requesting him to call Philip out.
“He isn't here,” answered Frank.
“Isn't here? I don't believe it!” said the squire hastily.
“Sorry you doubt my word, Squire Pope, but it's just as I say.”
“Where is he, then?” demanded the squire suspiciously.
“He has left town.”
“Left town?” repeated the squire and Joe Tucker, in dismay. “Where is he gone!”
“He's probably ten miles away by this time,” answered Frank, enjoying their perplexity. “I guess you'd better wait till he comes back.”
Joe and the squire conferred together, but no satisfactory result was arrived at, except it wouldn't pay to pursue Philip, for two reasons—one, because they were quite uncertain in what direction he had gone; another, because, even if overtaken, they would have no authority to apprehend11 him, since he had been guilty of no crime.
Finally a bright idea came to the squire.
“Bring me out his fiddle,” he said to Frank. “I'm his guardian12, and I will take care of it for him.”
“He carried it away with him,” said Frank. The squire's lower jaw13 fell. He was defeated at all points. “I guess we can't do nothing, under the circumstances, squire,” said Joe Tucker, scratching his head.
“I shall have to reflect upon it,” said Squire Pope, in a crestfallen14 tone.
“That's as good as a circus,” thought Frank, as his roguish glance followed the two baffled conspirators15 as they rode out of the yard. “It's a pity Phil was not here to enjoy it.”
At the end of the second day, Philip was some forty miles distant from Norton. He had not walked all the way, but had got a lift for a few miles from a tin-peddler, with whom he had a social chat.
It cannot be said that he was depressed16, or that he regretted having left Norton, but he certainly did feel uncomfortable, and his discomfort17 sprang from a very homely18 cause.
To tell the plain truth, he was hungry. He had not had anything to eat for six hours except an apple, which he had picked up by the roadside, and during those six hours he had walked not far from fifteen miles.
“I believe I never was so hungry before,” thought Philip. “The question is, where is my supper to come from?”
Although he knew pretty well the state of his finances, he began to search his pockets to see if he could not somewhere find a stray dime19, or, better still, a quarter, with which to purchase the meal of which he stood so much in need. But his search was unproductive, or, rather, it only resulted in the discovery of a battered20 cent.
“So that penny constitutes my whole fortune,” thought Philip.
There were two houses in sight, one on each side of the road.
Probably they would have given Philip a supper at either, but our hero's honest pride revolted at the idea of begging for a meal, much as he stood in need of it. He might as well be a pauper21, as he justly reflected. So he pushed on.
Philip turned round, and his glance rested on a stout24 young farmer, whose face, though very much sunburned, was pleasant and good-natured.
“I don't know,” answered Philip.
“Don't know?” was repeated in surprise.
“I am in search of work.”
“Oh, that's it! Are you a musician?” asked the young man, looking at the violin.
“Yes; a little of one.”
“Yes, if I can find one,” answered Philip, smiling.
“Can you play dancing-music?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess I can get you a job for this evening.”
“You see, there's to be a little dance in School-house Hall to-night,” said the farmer; “or there was to be one, but the fiddler's took sick, and we was afraid we'd have to give it up. Now, if you'll take his place, we can have it, after all.”
“What'll you charge?”
“How much was the other one going to charge?”
“Five dollars. You see, he would have to come six miles.”
“All right! You shall have supper and lodging at our house. There it is, down that lane. Come right along, for supper must be on the table. After supper I'll go and tell the committee I've engaged you.”
Philip's spirits rose. Help had come from an unexpected quarter. He felt that a new career was opening before him.
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1
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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5
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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7
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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8
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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9
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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10
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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12
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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13
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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14
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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15
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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17
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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18
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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19
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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20
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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21
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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22
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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23
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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25
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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26
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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