“Don't you know where they've gone?” asked Phil, in amazement.
“No. I was goin' to ask you. I s'posed, of course, they'd write and let you know.”
“I didn't even know they had left Gresham.”
“Well, that's what I call cur'us. It ain't treatin' you right accordin' to my ideas.”
“Is the house shut up?”
“It was till two days ago. Then a brother of Mrs. Brent came and opened it. He has brought his wife and one child with him, and it seems they're goin' to live there. Somebody asked him where his sister and Jonas were, but they didn't get no satisfaction. He said he didn't rightly know himself. He believed they was travelin'; thought they might be in Canada.”
Phil looked and felt decidedly sober at this information. He understood, of course, now, why his letter had not been answered. It looked as if he were an outcast from the home that had been his so long. When he came to New York to earn a living he felt that he was doing so voluntarily, and was not obliged to do so. Now he was absolutely thrown upon his own resources, and must either work or starve.
“They've treated you real mean,” said Reuben.
“I never did like Mrs. Brent, or Jonas either, for that matter.
“Where are you working?”