“I’d like to stop for dinner every day, on such terms,” he told himself. “In fact, I think I’d try to eat two dinners a day.”

 

The next place was quite a distance away, and the walk was a hot and dusty one. Yet he did not mind it, and went along whistling as cheerfully as ever.

 

Presently he came to a bend in the road where there was a big elm tree, and in the shade he paused for a while to rest.

 

He was about to move on when he saw a lad of twelve or thirteen with a bundle, tied in a blue cloth, approaching. At first he took the stranger to be a peddler, but soon saw that he was a farmer lad. He had evidently traveled far and was tired out and covered with dust.

 

“Hullo,” said Frank. “How far is it to the next house?”

 

“Hullo,” returned the boy, wearily. “The next house is just beyond yonder trees.” He paused and threw down his bundle in the shade. “Say, it’s hot, ain’t it?”

 

“Pretty warm,” answered our hero. “You look as if you had done some traveling to-day.”

 

“Tramped ever since six o’clock this morning.”

 

“Is that so! Then you’ve covered a good many miles.”

 

“I haven’t covered as many as I thought I would. I was going to get to Fairport by dinner time. What time is it now?”

 

Frank consulted a silver watch he carried.

 

“Nearly two o’clock.”

 

“I thought so—by the feeling in my stomach.”

 

“Then you haven’t had any dinner?”

 

“Haven’t had any breakfast yet, excepting one doughnut.”

 

“Why—er—what’s the matter?”

 

“You won’t tell, will you?”

 

“I don’t understand you.”

 

“I suppose it won’t make much difference if I do tell you. I’m running away from home.”

 

“Running away? What for?”

 

“Dad wants me to work all the time. He won’t give me no time to play.”

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