Tom raised no more objections to this arrangement, for he knew that the farmer’s wife sometimes had a very unpleasant way of enforcing her arguments; so, when Mr. Hayes and his boys started for the field, he remained at the house.
“Now, then, Tommy,” said the woman, “we haint got no time to waste. While I am washing up the breakfast dishes, you take them two buckets, an’ bring water from the spring. Run along lively, now, for we’ve got lots of work to do.”
Tom, fearing to disobey, reluctantly picked up the pails and left the house. He walked slowly down the path that led to the spring, and reaching a spot where some bushes hid him from the house, he seated himself on the ground to think over the situation, and, if possible, conjure up some plan by which he might avoid performing the work that had been laid out for him.
“I might as well hire myself out for a washer-woman at once,” said he to himself. “What would Gus Miller, and Johnny Harding, and the other fellows say if they knew I had helped wash clothes and take care of children? O, I can’t do such work. I’d rather take a whipping.”
“You, Tommy!” came the shrill voice of the farmer’s wife, breaking in upon his meditations; “have you gone to Newport after that water?”
Tom jumped up from the ground as if some one had suddenly pricked him with a pin. He had been gone from the house fully ten minutes, and the farmer’s wife had begun to grow impatient. He had not yet decided what he would do; but the sound of the woman’s voice seemed to quicken his ideas, for he suddenly made a desperate resolve. Hastily casting his eye back to the house, and then toward the hay-field, to satisfy himself that no one was observing his movements, he dropped the buckets as if they had been coals of fire, and started for the road at the top of his speed. Tom’s playmates had never looked upon him as a very swift runner, but could they have witnessed the exhibition of speed he made at that moment, no doubt they would have thought it something extraordinary. He was but a very few moments in crossing the field and reaching the fence, over which he bounded as lightly as a cat; and, finding himself in the road, he started toward Newport with redoubled speed. He did not waste time in looking back; neither did he slacken his pace, until he reached the foot of a hill about half a mile from the house, when he turned off into the woods, and after concealing himself behind some bushes, sat down on a log to recover his breath.
“Thank goodness, I’m free once more!” said he, wiping his flushed face with his handkerchief, and panting hard after his long run. “I wouldn’t go back there for a hundred dollars a month. Wash clothes and help take care of children! I don’t want to learn to be that kind of a farmer. What would the boys say, if they knew that I had got myself into such a scrape? Now, I wish I had my valise; but I wouldn’t go back after it if those were all the clothes I had in the world.”
Tom remained in his concealment but a very few moments, for, so fearful was he that the farmer, or one of his big boys, would follow him, and carry him back to the house, that he was anxious to reach home as soon as possible. It was sixteen miles to the village, and, under ordinary circumstances, Tom would have hesitated before attempting to walk such a long distance; but there was no alternative between that and returning to the house, and, of the two evils, he thought the task of making the journey to Newport, on foot, was the least. So, after looking cautiously down the road, to be sure that no one was following him, he came out of the woods and again set out. For the next two miles he continued to cast uneasy glances along the road behind him, holding himself in readiness to take to his heels again if he should discover any of the farmer’s family following him, and finally he saw a wagon approaching. A close and careful examination satisfied him that it did not belong to Mr. Hayes; so he seated himself beside the road to wait until the team came up. The driver proved to be a man whom Tom had often seen in the village, and, as soon as he came within speaking distance, he asked if he might be allowed to ride. Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he climbed up on the wagon, and was immediately assailed with innumerable questions by the farmer, who seemed very anxious to know what he had been doing, and where he intended to go. But Tom, although he had no fear that the man would take him back to Mr. Hayes’, still thought it prudent to keep his own counsel, and gave evasive answers to all his questions.
The road to Newport seemed to have lengthened considerably since Tom last traveled over it; but they reached the village about two o’clock; and Tom, after thanking the farmer for his kindness, sprang down from the wagon, and made the best of his way homeward. He kept the back streets as much as possible, for his boots and clothes were dusty, and he did not wish to meet any of his acquaintances in that condition. He reached home at last, and, as he entered the hall, he met his father, who had returned from the office earlier than usual.