“Well, it ain’t likely to be Squire Pope!” said Joe facetiously; “and Zeke and I are regular boarders on the free list.”
“Is it that boy?”
“Yes; it’s Phil Gray.”
“Humph! boys are a trial!” remarked Mrs. Tucker, whose experience with Zeke had doubtless convinced her of this fact.
“I sha’n’t trouble you long, Mrs. Tucker,” said Philip. “I don’t intend to stay.”
“You don’t, hey?” retorted Joe Tucker, with a wolfish grin and an emphatic nod of the head. “We’ll see about that—won’t we, Squire Pope?”
“The boy is rather rebellious, Mrs. Tucker,” said the selectman. “He appears to think he knows better what is good for him than we do. You may look upon him as a permanent boarder. What he says is of no account.”
Philip said nothing, but he looked full at the squire with an unflinching gaze. If ever determination was written upon any face, it was on his.
“Come down there!” said Mrs. Tucker, addressing our hero. “You’re at home now.”
“Mr. Dunbar won’t know what has become of me,” said Philip, with a sudden thought. “They will be anxious. May I go back there and tell them where I am?”