"I agree with you," said Bill. "That Sprague ain't of much account any way. I'd lick him myself for a dollar. He's about as mean as they make 'em."
CHAPTER XXX.
A CIRCUS IN MR. SPRAGUE'S YARD.
Philip timidly made known his request and the bottle was filled. The saloon-keeper attended to the order in a matter-of-fact manner. As long as he got his pay he cared very little whom he dealt with.
Philip, feeling ashamed of his burden, came out with the bottle and set out on his return home. He had been delayed by the conversation at the door, and he had also had to wait to have the bottle filled, there being several customers to attend to before him. So it happened that when he got back Mr. Sprague and Oscar were awaiting him impatiently.
"There the boy comes at last, father," said Oscar. "He's creeping like a snail."
Whisky was Mr. Sprague's one extravagance, and he had waited longer than usual for his customary drink. This made him irritable.
"Why don't you come along faster, you young beggar?" he called out harshly.
"I'll start him up, dad," said Oscar with alacrity.
Oscar started down the road with a cruel light in his eyes. He liked nothing better than to ill-treat the unfortunate boy who had been left to the tender mercies of his father.