"Yes, sir," I replied; "we are telling you the exact truth. We have no papers about us to prove who we are, but we give you our words that we are not runaways at all, but just what we claim to be."
"Let me see what you have in that bundle," said the man. "I want to be sure you haven't taken anything that doesn't belong to you."
I felt a flush of anger as he made this suggestion, and was about to reply rather tartly to the intimation that we might have stolen something. But the consciousness of my innocence of any wrong-doing, and, furthermore, the knowledge that the contents of our packs would prove it, restrained me. I said not a word, but undid my bundle and spread the contents before his eyes.
He gave a rapid glance at the articles displayed, and said in a sort of undertone, "New clothes, new stockings, new shirt; nothing else; all right." Then addressing himself to us directly, he said,—
"Boys, I believe just what you've told me. No runaway apprentice carries a pack like that. You are welcome to sleep in my barn; no, you sha'n't do that, you shall sleep in the house! You're hungry, and will want some supper; come right in."
"Thank you, sir," I said; "our mothers put up something for us to eat, enough to last us to Boston, provided we are economical. So we can eat our supper out here under the trees, and will sleep wherever you tell us to."
"Oh, nonsense, boys, come into the house and eat supper here. Save your provisions for to-morrow, and then you can eat just as hearty a dinner as you want to on the road without fear of starvation."
We thanked him and accepted his invitation. We had a good supper, and after it sat and talked with the farmer perhaps for an hour or more, told him our plans, and all about ourselves and families. The farmer and his wife were very kind to us; they told us they had two children, a boy about our age, and a girl two or three years younger. Both of them were away on a visit to some relatives in a neighboring town, and I fancied that the farmer and his wife were rather glad of their absence, lest we might have aroused in their boy a desire to follow our example.
We found that we had walked a little more than half the entire distance from our homes to Boston; if we traveled at the same rate we would reach Boston at sunset of the next day. As we were leaving the house of our hospitable friend in the morning, after a good breakfast, for which and the supper and lodging he would take no compensation, he suggested to us that we had better stop outside of Boston three or four miles, so as to enter the city in the morning.