“But, father,” began Guy.
“Do you hear me?” demanded Mr. Harris fiercely. “Throw it away.”
Guy knew better than to hesitate longer. Mr. Harris was a stern man, and in his efforts to “bring his boy up properly,” sometimes acted more like a tyrant than a father.
Taking the box, Guy walked out of the door and disappeared behind the carriage-house.
“I will throw it away,” said he to himself, “but I’ll be careful to throw it where I can find it again. I never heard of such injustice. I wasn’t in any way to blame for the trouble, for I didn’t ask Hank to pitch into George Wolcom and get my box for me; and neither did Mrs. Stewart run out and try to put a stop to the fight. It was all over before she showed herself. But that’s just the way with all step-mothers, I have heard, and I know it is so with mine. She runs to father with every little thing I do, and seems to delight in having me hauled over the coals. It isn’t so with Ned. He can do as he pleases, but I must walk straight, or suffer for it. I sha’n’t stand it much longer, and that’s all about it. Stay there till I want you again.”
Guy threw the box into a cluster of currant bushes at the back of the garden, and after noting the spot where it fell, went slowly back to the dining-room and sat down to his dinner.
CHAPTER II.
SOME SCRAPS OF GUY’S HISTORY.
I MUST say before I go further, that Guy Harris is not an imaginary character. He has an existence as surely as you have, boy reader. He is to-day an active professional man, and he has consented to have the story of his boyhood written in the hope that it may serve as a warning, should it chance to fall into the hands of any discontented young fellow who is tempted to do as he did.