Willy spoke respectfully,—he had never done otherwise to his father,—and Mr. Parlin little suspected the tempest that was raging in the child's bosom.
"Very well; go! but don't be gone long."
"'Long?' Don't know what he calls long," thought the little boy. "P'raps I'll be gone two years; p'raps I'll be gone ten. Calls me a 'young man' after he has whipped me. Guess I will be a young man before I get back! Guess there won't be any more horsewhippings then!"
And, dizzy with anger, he walked fast to the post office, without turning his head.
Fred was there, anxiously waiting for him. The two boys greeted each other with a meaning look, and soon began to move slowly along towards the guide-board at the turn of the road.
To the people who happened to be looking that way, it seemed natural enough that Willy and Fred should be walking together. If anybody thought twice about the matter, it was Dr. Hilton; and I dare say he supposed they were swapping jack-knives.
As soon as they were fairly out of sight of the village, Fred said, sneeringly,—
"Well, I've been waiting most half an hour—I suppose you know. Began to think you'd sneaked out of it, Bill."
There is an insult in the word 'sneak' that no boy of spirit can bear, and Willy was in no mood to be insulted.
"Fred Chase," said he, bristling, "I'll give you one minute to take that back."