‘Don’t know about the comfort part, Pawliney,’ said Stephen, with a queer choke in his voice. ‘Seems like as if we all depended on you for that commodity. But I’ll be as quick as I kin. Good-bye, all of you. Git along, Goliath.’
Three days had passed since his departure, and Pauline stood in the doorway feasting her eyes on the lights and shadows which grouped themselves about the distant hills, when Lemuel brushed past her, clad in his Sunday best.
‘Why, Lemuel!’ she cried astonished, ‘you haven’t had your supper yet. Where are you going?’
‘To China,’ was the brusque response. ‘I’ve hed enuff of Sleepy Hollow, an’ bein’ ordered round by an old man with his head in the moon. It’s “Lemuel, do this,” an’ before I git started it’s “Lemuel, do the t’other thing.” You kin stand it ef you’re a mind ter; I won’t.’
‘But, Lemuel!’ gasped Pauline, ‘what will Stephen say?’
‘I don’t care what he says,’ said the boy roughly. ‘Stephen ain’t my boss.’
‘Oh, Lemuel, you can’t mean it!’ cried Pauline, as she followed him down the path to the main road.
‘See if I don’t!’ And he strode away from her, and vaulted over the gate.
‘But what will father do?’
‘Git somebody that’s ez loony ez himself. I ain’t,’ was the jeering reply.