“As sweet as a crab-apple,” said the driver. “I’m glad to be rid of him.”
“The boy’s a different sort.”
“Yes, the boy’s a good fellow. Pity he’s tied to such a man.”
So the coach drove away, leaving Tom and his employer plodding along in a heavy, muddy road. It was hard work walking, but Tom did not care for that. He would like, however, to have had a more agreeable companion.
A little ahead of them was a fallen bough of a tree, separated from the parent trunk probably by some violent storm. It occurred to Tom that it would be a good idea to cut from it a stick, which might serve as a staff, and so lighten the labor of walking. He went up to the bough, therefore, and drew out a stout jack-knife, which he had in his pocket.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mr. Burnett, quickly.
“Going to cut me a cane,” replied Tom, innocently.
“I can’t stop for any such nonsense,” said Burnett, crossly.
“Go right on, Mr. Burnett, and I’ll catch you,” said Tom, good-humoredly.
“I positively forbid your cutting a cane, do you hear me?” said Burnett, angrily.