"What does it mean? Where can the boy have gone?" ejaculated Nahum.

 

"I'll be blest if I know," returned Oscar.

 

"The door was locked. He must have gone through the window. There wasn't any rope in the room, was there?"

 

"No."

 

"And if he jumped out he would certainly have broken his neck, or his limbs."

 

"He wouldn't have dared to jump. He's no braver than a mouse."

 

"It's the most mysterious thing I ever heard of," said Mr. Sprague, wrinkling his brows.

 

"What are you going to do about it, dad?"

 

"I don't know. I'm flabbergasted."

 

"I'll tell you what to do when you get him back," suggested Oscar. "Give him a sound thrashing. It will do him good."

 

"You can depend upon that. I think it may be well after breakfast for you to go round and inquire if he has been seen in the village."

 

"What shall I say about his running away?"

 

"Say he's a little touched in the upper story."

 

"I guess he'd better be touched somewhere else," said Oscar with a loud laugh at his own wit.

 

Considerably¹ to his disgust Oscar was set to work doing some of Philip's chores directly after breakfast, and it was nine o'clock before he got ready to start in quest of Philip. Even then he did not start, for an open buggy stopped at the gate, driven by a man from the village, and containing as passenger, a boy of sixteen. This boy was Mark Mason, as the reader will easily conjecture².

 

"Who's that, Oscar! Is it one of your friends?" asked Nahum Sprague.

 

"No; never saw him before in my life."

 

Mark advanced directly to Mr. Sprague.

 

"Is this Mr. Nahum Sprague?" he asked.

 

"Yes; that's my name."

 

"Does a boy named Philip Lillis live with you?"

 

"And what if there does?" inquired Mr. Sprague cautiously.

 

"I am sent from New York to take charge of him."

分享到：