"How stoopid you are, Phil! That ain't all I'm after," said Tad crossly. "The baby ain't everything; I want to go back to England myself. If Dad got the baby home, he wouldn't care a straw what became of me; and that old cat of a stepmother of mine would be glad enough if nothin' was never heard of me no more. So you see I might stay here all my life. I must take the child myself or be here for good and all."
"Well, if Marie will let you have him, that's all right," said Phil; "but Tad, dear, don't do nothin' you'll be sorry for after. Remember how you told me of such a many things you'd had to make a choice of, and you said you'd chose what you thought you'd like best, or what seemed easiest, and only see what have come of it! And it was only when we made up our minds not to do wrong, that God sort of opened up the way afore us, and got us clean away out of old Foxy's clutches. Tad, dear, them as tries to do the right thing God always helps, but no one can't expect help from Him if he does wrong."
"Shut up with your preachin', Phil!" cried Tad impatiently. "If you was a parson and me the congregation, stuck fast in the pews, I'd be bound to listen; but you ain't, and I ain't, so hold your noise. The baby's my half-brother, not yours; he wasn't stole from you—was he? So it's none of your business. I'll do as I choose—I will—so there!"
Tad had never before spoken harshly to his companion, and even as he uttered the words, his heart and conscience smote him.
He saw Phil's head droop suddenly, and the thin cheek flush and pale again. He even thought he heard a half-suppressed sob, when the little fellow turned away without another word.
But like Pharaoh of old, he hardened his heart, muttering, "What if he be hurt a bit! Sarve him right for meddlin' with what don't consarn him."
Then he went off to his work of hobbling the horses for the night, at the other end of the field, and nothing more passed between him and Phil, nor did they see each other again till morning.
[CHAPTER XVII]
AGAINST THE PRICKS
SOME days passed, and meanwhile Tad's idea of running off with the child secretly was so much in his mind, unresisted, unchecked, that at last it became a distinct purpose for which he began once more to plot and plan. The foolishness and the utter recklessness of such a proceeding were lost sight of in his great desire to accomplish what he had at heart, namely his return to England and the restoration of the baby to its mother, by way of securing safety and a welcome for himself. The difficulties and dangers he did not take into account because he would not. Obstinately bent upon carrying out his idea, he made everything else yield; he was even prepared to part from Phil, rather than give up his purpose.