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"I am going down into the State of Maine this time, and shall be gone three or four weeks."
"So much the better; I always wanted to go down that way."
Tom asked a great many questions about the business and the method of travelling, which Bobby's superior intelligence and more extensive experience enabled him to answer to the entire satisfaction of the other.
When they were within half a mile of the railroad station, they heard a carriage driven at a rapid rate approaching them from the direction of Riverdale.
Tom seemed to be uneasy, and cast frequent glances behind him. In a moment the vehicle was within a short distance of them, and he stopped short in the road to scrutinize the persons in it.
"By jolly!" exclaimed Tom; "my father!"
"What of it?" asked Bobby, surprised by the strange behavior of his companion.
Tom did not wait to reply, but springing over the fence fled like a deer towards some woods a short distance from the road.
Was it possible? Tom had run away from home. His father had not consented to his going to Boston, and Bobby was mortified to find that his hopeful disciple had been lying to him ever since they left Riverdale. But he was glad the cheat had been exposed.
"That was Tom with you--wasn't it?" asked Mr. Spicer, as he stopped the foaming horse.
"Yes, sir; but he told me you had consented that he should go with me," replied Bobby, a little disturbed by the angry glance of Mr.
Spicer's fiery eyes.
"He lied! the young villain! He will catch it for this."
"I would not have let him come with me only for that. I asked him twice over if you were willing, and he said you were."
"You ought to have known better than to believe him," interposed the man who was with Mr. Spicer.
Bobby had some reason for believing him. The fact that Tom had reformed ought to have ent.i.tled him to some consideration, and our hero gave him the full benefit of the declaration. To have explained this would have taken more time than he could spare; besides, it was "a great moral question," whose importance Mr. Spicer and his companion would not be likely to apprehend; so he made a short story of it, and resumed his walk, thankful that he had got rid of Tom.
Mr. Spicer and his friend, after fastening the horse to the fence, went to the woods in search of Tom.
Bobby reached the station just in time to take the cars, and in a moment was on his way to the city.
CHAPTER XV
IN WHICH BOBBY GETS INTO A Sc.r.a.pE, AND TOM SPICER TURNS UP AGAIN
Bobby had a poorer opinion of human nature than ever before. It seemed almost incredible to him that words so fairly spoken as those of Tom Spicer could be false. He had just risen from a sick bed, where he had had an opportunity for long and serious reflection. Tom had promised fairly, and Bobby had every reason to suppose he intended to be a good boy. But his promises had been lies. He had never intended to reform, at least not since he had got off his bed of pain. He was mortified and disheartened at the failure of this attempt to restore him to himself.
Like a great many older and wiser persons than himself, he was p.r.o.ne to judge the whole human family by a single individual. He did not come to believe that every man was a rascal, but, in more general terms, that there is a great deal more rascality in this world than one would be willing to believe.
With this sage reflection, he dismissed Tom from his mind, which very naturally turned again to the air castle which had been so ruthlessly upset. Then his opinion of "the rest of mankind" was reversed; and he reflected that if the world were only peopled by angels like Annie Lee, what a pleasant place it would be to live in. She could not tell a lie, she could not use bad language, she could not steal, or do anything else that was bad; and the prospect was decidedly pleasant. It was very agreeable to turn from Tom to Annie, and in a moment his air castle was built again, and throned on clouds of gold and purple. I do not know what impossible things he imagined, or how far up in the clouds he would have gone, if the arrival of the train at the city had not interrupted his thoughts, and pitched him down upon the earth again.
Bobby was not one of that impracticable cla.s.s of persons who do nothing but dream; for he felt that he had a mission to perform which dreaming could not accomplish. However pleasant it may be to think of the great and brilliant things which one _will_ do, to one of Bobby's practical character it was even more pleasant to perform them. We all dream great things, imagine great things; but he who stops there does not amount to much, and the world can well spare him, for he is nothing but a drone in the hive. Bobby's fine imaginings were pretty sure to bring out a "now or never," which was the pledge of action, and the work was as good as done when he had said it.
Therefore, when the train arrived, Bobby did not stop to dream any longer. He forgot his beautiful air castle, and even let Annie Lee slip from his mind for the time being. Those towns upon the Kennebec, the two hundred books he was to sell, loomed up before him, for it was with them he had to do.
Grasping the little valise he carried with him, he was hastening out of the station house when a hand was placed upon his shoulder.
"Got off slick--didn't I?" said Tom Spicer, placing himself by Bobby's side.
"You here, Tom!" exclaimed our hero, gazing with astonishment at his late companion.
It was not an agreeable encounter, and from the bottom of his heart Bobby wished him anywhere but where he was. He foresaw that he could not easily get rid of him.
"I am here," replied Tom. "I ran through the woods to the depot, and got aboard the cars just as they were starting. The old man couldn't come it over me quite so slick as that."
"But you ran away from home."
"Well, what of it?"
"A good deal, I should say."
"If you had been in my place, you would have done the same."
"I don't know about that; obedience to parents is one of our first duties."
"I know that; and if I had had any sort of fair play, I wouldn't have run away."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Bobby, somewhat surprised, though he had a faint idea of the meaning of the other.
"I will tell you all about it by and by. I give you my word of honor that I will make everything satisfactory to you."
"But you lied to me on the road this morning."
Tom winced; under ordinary circ.u.mstances he would have resented such a remark by "clearing away" for a fight. But he had a purpose to accomplish, and he knew the character of him with whom he had to deal.
"I'm sorry I did, now," answered Tom, with every manifestation of penitence for his fault. "I didn't want to lie to you; and it went against my conscience to do so. But I was afraid, if I told you my father refused, up and down, to let me go, that you wouldn't be willing I should come with you."
"I shall not be any more willing now I know all about it," added Bobby, in an uncompromising tone.
"Wait till you have heard my story, and then you won't blame me."
"Of course you can go where you please; it is none of my business; but let me tell you, Tom, in the beginning, that I won't go with a fellow who has run away from his father and mother."
"Pooh! What's the use of talking in that way?"
Tom was evidently disconcerted by this decided stand of his companion. He knew that his b.u.mp of firmness was well developed, and whatever he said he meant.
"You had better return home, Tom. Boys that run away from home don't often amount to much. Take my advice, and go home," added Bobby.
"To such a home as mine!" said Tom, gloomily. "If I had such a home as yours, I would not have left it."
Bobby got a further idea from this remark of the true state of the case, and the consideration moved him. Tom's father was a notoriously intemperate man, and the boy had nothing to hope for from his precept or his example. He was the child of a drunkard, and as much to be pitied as blamed for his vices. His home was not pleasant. He who presided over it, and who should have made a paradise of it, was its evil genius, a demon of wickedness, who blasted its flowers as fast as they bloomed.