“I am able to make an honest living,” said George, with no little indignation in his tones, “and I shall not go to the poorhouse to please anybody.”
“You ain’t your own boss yet by a few years,” reminded the man, with a sneer; “an’ if you’re too stuck up to earn a livin’ by hard work, like an honest boy had oughter do, you may find yourself in jail, the first thing you know. I’ve been a-lookin’ for it, ’cause there’s been a heap of stealin’—Wal, go on; but remember what I’m a-tellin’ you.”
George, who was too angry to listen to another word, hurried down to the beach, sprang into his boat, and pushed off into deep water.
His little cabin was lonely enough now. He missed his new friends, whom he had learned to like during his short acquaintance with them, and his interview with Mr. Stebbins had thrown a gloom over him that he could not shake off.
CHAPTER VIII.
UNCLE RUBEN CALLS AGAIN.
During the next few days, George was permitted to live in peace, but we cannot say that he enjoyed himself, for at times he felt very lonely, and bitter, too.
While other boys in the village were given every opportunity to work their way up in the world, he had been driven into exile by force of circumstances, and just now he did not see how he could better his condition.
“I have heard people say that it is always darkest just before daylight, and if that is the case, my day must be close at hand,” George often said to himself. “Things couldn’t look darker to me than they do now; but if a canal boy can become President, I don’t see why a fisher-boy cannot become a decent, respected member of society, if nothing more. I shall work hard for it, and if I fail, it will not be my fault.”
Every other day George carried to the village a nicely-dressed string of fish, for which he found ready sale, bringing back with him such supplies as he happened to need.
He always found everything in and about the cabin just as he had left it, and there was nothing to indicate that there had been any one there during his absence.