"Buck!" he added, extending his hand to me, "what does all this mean? I supposed you were both in Torrentville."
"We are not. We couldn't stand it any longer," I replied.
"Stand what?" he demanded, sternly.
"The way that Captain Fishley's folks treated us."
"You don't mean to say they abused you!"
"That's just what I mean to say. I thought I spoke plain enough in my letters for you to understand me."
"I had no idea that you were actually abused. Boys are always grumbling and complaining, and some of them think their lot is a great deal harder than it is. Flora didn't say anything in her letters; she didn't complain."
"She wouldn't have said anything if they had killed her," I replied. "I am not one of the grumbling sort, and I didn't say anything till they picked upon me so that I couldn't stand it. I was kept at home from school half the time to work; and then I was the old man's servant, the old woman's servant, and Ham's servant. I was kept on the jump by some of them all the time."
"But you were only to take care of the horse, and go for the mail every evening; and I thought you rather liked that," he added; and he wore a look of astonishment and indignation.
"I did like it; but I had to work in the garden, feed the pigs, make the fires, do chores about the house, run of errands, and work in the store. I was kept busy from morning till night."