“I wish I had known three months ago as much as I know now.”
“Three months ago, Tom, we both knew what we had to expect; that was all talked over.”
“Well, it’s one thing to see hardship and failure at a distance, but it’s another thing to go through them. I didn’t know then, as I do now, what real hardship was. I thought I did. Handy man on a farm seemed about as near slavery as we could find in a free country.”
“Our experience is not unusual, Tom. We may succeed yet—we may not. I am going to stick it out another month and so are you——”
“I’m not so sure of that,” interrupted Tom.
“Yes you will, if I know you, Tom, and I guess I do. You like to have your little growl now and then, and I’m glad you do; it makes me argue on the bright side, and to see the pleasant features and the hopeful prospects.”
“It’s a pity hopes don’t sell in the market, Phil; you’d be pretty well off if they did.”
“Come, now! none of your sarcasm, old man. I tell you we are going to stick this for a month yet. We have no money, it is true; but we can work our way, and we are free and are seeing the world. That beats eighteen hours a day on farm work.”
The trail here ran close to the edge of the stream and about a foot above it. Phil Gormley the hopeful, happened to step on a loose stone; it gave way and down went his right leg into the water.
“I like that!” he exclaimed in vexation, as he pulled his foot out with much difficulty. He regarded his shoe with surprise on seeing it covered to the top with soft mud. He sat down on a log and squeezed the water out of his trousers leg, gazing all the while at the muddy shoe in a reverie that attracted Tom Danvers’ attention.