"Did you find him?"
"No."
"Well, he's not come in," said Mrs. Smithers, "and it's my opinion that your harshness has driven him to some rash act."
"Run away, do you think?" exclaimed Smithers. "Oh, dear, no—hic—Tommy's too good a judge of when he'sh well off. Light my—hic—candlesh, and I'll go to bed."
Smithers was accommodated with a light, and in some mysterious manner retired without breaking his neck or setting the house on fire.
Harold and Alice followed their father's example, but Mrs. Smithers remained up till the small hours, waiting for Tommy to come back.
The fire in the stove went out, and the daylight peeped through the shades. Still the anxious mother watched.
When Tommy managed to escape from his father's anger, he ran to the back of Mr. Barker's house, where he knew he was sure of protection and shelter.
In the kitchen he found Charles Barker, a boy about his own age.
"Hello, Tommy," exclaimed Charley; "weren't those oysters bully?"