“First it was words and then it came to blows,” he resumed. “At last I said I wished I was a thousand miles from home, and my father took me up and said I could go and never come back; and here I am.”
“But he didn’t mean that, Gus.”
“Never mind, he said it, and I took him up. So that night I packed my grip,—had quite a job, I was in such a tremendous hurry,—and found out all about the steamer and so forth. I left home right after breakfast.
“Just as I passed out of the garden, father saw me, and called out to know where I was going. I told him a thousand miles away, as he had wished. He said I was a fool, and ordered me back. When I didn’t mind, he came running after me. I started up the road, with my eye on him over my shoulder. I didn’t notice a puddle in the way, and the first thing went a-sousing into it. Maybe I wasn’t a sight to behold! I had on my best clothes too!”
Oliver laughed heartily. He could well imagine the scene.
“But you got away?” he asked with deep interest.
“Of course; if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here. When I reached the station the train had just come in. I jumped aboard, and in a moment we were off. But what a mess I was in! I was mud from head to foot, and my face resembled that of the worst tramp you ever saw! I tried to clean myself as best I could, but nevertheless every one stared at me, and I had the whole seat to myself the entire way.”
“I can see the mud yet,” said Oliver.