Every arrangement had been made. The day Tom had set for his departure came so quickly that it seemed as if there must have been some mistake in the almanac, and two or three days had been lost. Tom met his friends, acted the part of a hero before them until it was so late that each one had been obliged to go home, and then he, having bidden each one in turn a solemn good-by, was compelled to carry out the plan he had laid.
It is certain that at the moment his friends left him Tom was thoroughly sorry he had ever said anything about running away. He had suddenly come to understand what it was to be alone, and he by no means fancied the sensation. At that moment his troubles which were obliging him to leave home did not seem to be nearly so great as they had been a few days before; his home had never appeared so cheerful as now when he was leaving it, and he actually began to hope that some insurmountable obstacle would occur to prevent his running away.
The tears filled his eyes as he crept softly up the back stairs, wishing so much that he could kiss his mother and sister good-by, wishing that he had never thought of going, but fully believing that it would be unmanly not to do so, and that his schoolmates would laugh at him if he should abandon the scheme before he had even attempted to carry it into execution.
He hoped the stairs would creak so loudly that his mother would come to see what the matter was and discover him leaving the house with his bundles, but when he came down there was hardly a sound. He was out of the house without, apparently, having been discovered, and his heart was very heavy as he walked slowly around the yard to the gate, with a long, lonely journey before him and with no idea as to where would be the end.
He had opened the gate and was taking a farewell look at the house, when, to his great delight, the front door was opened and he saw his mother. He would surely be called back now, he thought, and his friends could not accuse him of having been afraid to carry out his plans.
“So you are really going to run away, are you, Tommy?” said his mother, who did not appear in the least surprised by his intended departure.
“Yes’m,” replied Tom, in a very low tone, feeling foolish and at the same time wondering whether his secret had been betrayed by his friends.
“Well,” continued Mrs. Gibson, speaking in a matter-of-fact way and as if the subject was an indifferent one to her, “if you feel that you must go, I see no reason why you should not have left the house in the daytime; but of course you know best. I noticed that you did not pack any of your clothes, so I put the most of them in this satchel, which I think you will find more convenient than that bundle.”
Tom didn’t want to accept the satchel his mother held out to him; but there seemed to be no other course to pursue, and he took it, feeling as he did so that if his mother had loved him very dearly she would have boxed his ears severely, ordering him at the same time to come back into the house.