To anyone who had observed him there was
nothing of uncertainty in the lad's walk as he swung along. As a
matter of fact, Phil had not the slightest idea where he was
going. He knew only that he wanted to get away by himself.
On the outskirts of the village men had been at work that day,
cutting and piling up hay. The field was dotted with heaps of
the fragrant, freshly garnered stuff.
Phil hesitated, glanced across the field, and, noting that the
men had all gone home for the day, climbed the fence. He walked
on through the field until he had reached the opposite side of
it. Then the lad placed his bag on the ground and sat down on a
pile of hay.
With head in hands, he tried to think, to plan, but somehow his
mind seemed unable to perform its proper functions. It simply
would not work.
"Not much of a start in the world, this," grinned Phil, shifting
his position so as to command a better view of the world, for he
did not want anyone to see him. "I suppose Uncle Abner is
getting supper now. But where am I going to get mine? I hadn't
thought of that before. It looks very much as if I should have
to go without. But I don't care.
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