“You’ll have a chance to earn your livin’ with me.” said Mr. Tucker. “I shall give you something to do, you may depend.”
“You can make him saw and split wood, father, and do the chores and milk the cow,” suggested Zeke.
“I have no objection to doing any of those things for a farmer,” said Philip, “but I am not willing to do it where I shall be considered a pauper.”
“Kinder uppish!” suggested Mr. Tucker, turning to Squire Pope. “Most all of them paupers is proud; but it’s pride in the wrong place, I reckon.”
“If it is pride to want to earn an independent living, and not live on charity, then I am proud,” continued Philip.
“Well, squire, how is it to be,” asked Mr. Tucker.
“Philip,” said Squire Pope pompously, “you are very young, and you don’t know what is best for you. We do, and you must submit. Mr. Tucker, take him and put him in the wagon, and we’ll drive over to the poorhouse.”
“What! now?” asked Philip, in dismay.
“Just so,” answered Joe Tucker. “When you’ve got your bird, don’t let him go, that’s what I say.”
“That’s the talk, dad!” said Zeke gladfully. “We’ll take down his pride, I guess, when we’ve got him home.”