As I hid behind the spice-boxes I heard Doctor Tremont tell Phil, in a
very stern voice, to march up-stairs, and stay there until he came for
him. It must have been nearly an hour that I hid on that shelf,
waiting for a chance to make my escape. The batter began to harden and
cake on me until I could not move without every hair on my body
pulling painfully.
Things were set to rights in the dining-room after awhile and the
family had supper. Some bread and milk were sent up to Phil. Soon
after I reached the laundry, Stuart found me there. He turned the
hose on me and gave me a rough scrubbing. Then he wrapped me in a
piece of a blanket and took me up-stairs to dry before the fire in his
room. Phil had gone to bed, and was lying there sobbing, with his head
under the pillows when we came in. He wouldn't talk at first, but
after awhile he told Stuart that his father had given him a hard
whipping for speaking so disrespectfully to an old lady like Miss
Patricia, and that he could not go to the table again until he had
asked her pardon. That Phil vowed he would not do so long as he lived.
He had made up his mind to run away in the morning. Nobody treated him
right, and he didn't intend to stand it any longer.
"But, Phil," said Stuart, "you know yourself, that it wasn't very nice
of Dago to go walking around the table through the butter and
applesauce, and all the things to eat.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57