From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ of hard on the boy to make him go to bed without his supper," remarked the housekeeper, as she gathered up the things on the floor.

      "It's his own fault," snorted the farmer. "He's got to be took down, he has!"

      "He hasn't had a mouthful since noon, and we had a light dinner, too."

      "I can't help that, Mrs. Felton. I'm goin' to teach him a lesson."

      "Nat is a high-spirited boy, Mr. Balberry. Maybe he won't stand for it."

      "He has got to stand fer it," was the answer, from the sink, where the farmer was washing his face and hands.

      "But if he won't?"

      "Wot can he do, I'd like to know?"

      "I'm sure I don't know—but he may do something that you least expect."

      "He won't do nuthin'," said the farmer, and sank down in his seat at the table. "He can't do nuthin'. I give him a good home, but he don't seem to a'preciate it nohow."

      To this Mrs. Felton did not reply, but set the food on the table. The fish had not been spoilt, and the farmer ate all he wished of the dish.

      "Why don't you eat?" he asked of the housekeeper, seeing that she had abstained from touching the fish.

      "I—I don't care for it," she answered. She had in mind to save what was left and give it to Nat for his breakfast.

      "That boy is gittin' too big fer his boots," went on Abner Balberry. "He acts like he was of age, an' he is only sixteen. Last week he wanted to know how soon I was goin' to pay him reg'lar wages."

      "And what did you tell him?"

      "Told him I'd pay him wages when he was wuth it an' not before."

      "He does almost a man's work now, doesn't he?"

      "Not much! Besides, don't I feed an' clothe him an' give him a comfortable home? He's got too high-falutin' notions, he has!"

      "But don't you think he ought to have some money?" went on Mrs. Felton, who could be a trifle independent herself at times.

      "No. Money is the ruination o' young folks. Week before last he wanted a quarter to go to the circus with, but he didn't git it."

      "Almost all of the boys in this district went to the circus. Tom Bradley told me it was very good, too."

      "Humph! That Bradley boy is going to the dogs as fast as he can go."

      "Deacon Slide thinks he is a very good boy."

      "Well, the deacon don't know everything. I'm goin' to make Nat toe the mark until he is twenty-one. After that I'll wash my hands o' him."

      The farmer finished his supper and then went out to see that everything was all right around the farm for the night. A little later he took a lamp and went upstairs. Tiptoeing his way through an upper hall he came to a pause in front of Nat's room.

      "Asleep, jest as I thought," he told himself, after listening to the boy's breathing. Then he peeped into the room, to behold Nat lying under the cover of the bed, with his face turned to the wall.

      "I'll give him another talkin' to in the mornin'," the farmer told himself; and then retired, with no thought of what was going to happen before the sun arose upon another day.

      CHAPTER III

      NAT LEAVES THE FARM

      Farmer Balberry was mistaken; Nat was not asleep, nor was there any thought of sleep in the boy's mind.

      The youth had not even gone to bed. He had been sitting on a chair by the open window when he had heard his uncle coming upstairs, and to deceive his relative had jumped into bed and pulled the blanket up over him.

      When Nat was thrust up the stairs his mind was in a tumult. He felt that his uncle was not treating him fairly—and he wanted his supper very much.

      It is bad enough to have a real grievance of any kind—it is worse when one must bear it on an empty stomach. As he made his way to his room the boy was in a savage humor and fit to do almost any deed.

      "Uncle Abner is getting worse every day!" he muttered to himself. "He treats me worse than I would treat a dog!"

      Sitting by the open window Nat thought of many things—of the death of his parents, and of the taking off of his aunt—and of how his miserly uncle had treated him ever since.

      "It's not fair!" he told himself, over and over again. "Uncle Abner doesn't believe in giving a boy a fair show. I wish I lived with somebody else."

      The more he thought over the situation the more he felt that he ought not to stand such treatment. He felt that he was entitled to his supper, and also to some spending money if not to regular wages. At the present time he had not a cent in the world.

      "If I had a few dollars I might strike out for myself," he reasoned. "But I haven't even a few cents. Wonder how I could raise a few dollars?"

      As said before Nat's worldly possessions were few. In his room he had some trinkets from home and also an old silver watch which had belonged to his father.

      "I might sell the watch," he thought, but then decided that it would be best to keep the heirloom.

      Then he thought of Jennie, the white and brown cow. As a calf she had been given to Nat by his mother, and she was now a part of the herd on the Balberry farm.

      "Jennie ought to be worth twenty or twenty-five dollars," he said to himself. "That's a pile of money, for a start. Wonder how I could manage to sell her?"

      Thus speculating, Nat gradually drifted around to the point where he decided that he would leave the farm at once. He had told his uncle that he wanted his supper or he would not work for the man any more, and he meant to keep his word.

      By the time all was quiet around the house and he was certain both the housekeeper and his uncle had retired, Nat had settled just what he was going to do.

      Making no noise, he slipped off his working clothes and put on his best suit—something just a trifle better than the others. He also donned a clean shirt and collar and necktie and got out his best hat and shoes. Then, with his other possessions wrapped in a small bundle, and with his shoes under his arm, he tiptoed his way out of the bedchamber, along the hall, and down to the lower floor of the farmhouse.

      Nat knew exactly where Mrs. Felton kept the things to eat, so it was not necessary for him to light a lamp. The use of a match revealed as much as he wanted to know, and in a short time he was devouring what was left of the fish and also some bread and butter and a generous quarter of a cherry pie, which the housekeeper had insisted upon baking the day before, somewhat against Abner Balberry's will, for the farmer would rather have sold the cherries at the store.

      His meal finished, Nat hesitated for a moment, and then got out an old newspaper. Into this he wrapped half a dozen slices of bread and butter, along with a bit of cheese and two rather stale doughnuts.

      "They'll come in handy for breakfast, along with an apple or two," was the way he reasoned. "Especially if I don't happen to sell the cow."

      The boy's next move was to leave the house, which he did after tying his clothes and the lunch into one bundle, which he slung СКАЧАТЬ