This seemed to be the great question with him. He was willing to work hard for enough to eat. He was not a dandy, and the clothes question did not trouble him. It was only terrible to be hungry.
"Sim, I'm going to run away myself," said I.
"What, from Fishley's?" he demanded, opening his eyes.
"Yes, from Fishley's."
"Don't they give you enough to eat?"
"Plenty."
"What do you want to run away for, then?" asked he; and, if the provision question was all right, he did not think there ought to be trouble about any other matter.
"They don't use me well, and they don't use my sister well."
"But they give you enough to eat."
"I would rather be starved than treated like a dog. My brother Clarence is going to take us away in the fall; but I don't think I can stand it till that time."