"This place looks like something of a park; we shall be caught; we han't no right to be here." "Never you mind,' says he (but I saw he kept looking about him, watching like); 'I have been here before, and never was interrupted; and I know lots of folks who come here: there's a bite,' says he, and he began pulling out a fish, when we saw a man coming towards us; but he was on the other side of the river. There's Squire Russell's keeper!' said Abraham; but I shall have time to pull out the fish ;' and he drew it to the bank, and began to put up his line, when we saw another man on our side. He called out to us to stop; but we did not do that. I did not stay for any thing, but ran off as hard as I could; but I had not got far when I could see Abraham was taken. I never stopped till I got to a sort of a plantation, and there I lay down amongst the low bushes to get my breath, and to rest a bit. Oh, how bad I did feel !" "And serve you right too!" ejaculated Gregory. "How long did you stay there?" "I don't know how long, except that I knew by the sun it was getting towards afternoon." "Were you not hungry?" asked Gilbert, compassionately. “I had a bit of bread and cheese in my pocket, which I bought when I left Fairburn." "Did you stay there all night?" asked his mother. "No; as I found every thing was quiet, I left the wood; but I daren't go back, because I knew Abraham would tell who I was, and the police would be on the look-out for me. I did not know where I was; but I walked through some fields, and came to the high road. Here I met some boys going home from school; they showed me the road to Fairburn, and the road to Ashford; and so I went to Ashford, and passed through there." "Where did you sleep, then?" asked his mother. "I lay down in a haystack not far off the road. Next day I walked on again." "But where did you get any thing to eat?" "I had twopence in my pocket, and I bought some bread and cheese in a village I passed through. Towards evening a wagon passed me; I knew the name of the place painted on that; and so I asked the wagoner how far it was from Fairburn, and he told me about ten miles." "Why did you not come home then?" sobbed out his mother; "that was yesterday, I suppose." "Yes; that was yesterday," replied Jemmy. "I thought of nothing but the police, and that they would be looking out for me. I asked the wagoner to let me ride. He spoke very friendly, and asked where I belonged, and where I was going. I told him at first I had lost my way; and so I had: that was no story; but I could not tell him where I wanted to go, for I did not know myself. 'Well,' says he, 'there's something wrong. A boy like you don't wander about this way for nothing."'" "He knew you'd been up to mischief, of course," said Gregory. "Yes," said Jemmy; "and, as he spoke friendly like, I told him all about it; so he took me home with him, and gave me some supper, and I lay down on his floor all night." "And did you come from there this morning, then?" "Yes," said Jemmy; "he made me promise I would; or else, he said, he'd take me up to Squire Russell, who was a magistrate; and that's all about it," said Jemmy, wiping his face; for he had not told his story without agitation and trouble. "Not quite all," said the gardener; "it ain't done with yet." "Will he be sent to prison?" asked Gilbert, look. ing terribly alarmed. "Well; I should hope not," said the gardener; "but his master can have him punished, or refuse to take him back; but there's nothing to be done just now, that I know of; so, young master, we'll go." He opened the door, and Gilbert went out. As Gregory was leaving the house, he said in a low voice to Mrs. Park, "Keep up a good heart, and don't fret; ! I'll go and speak to Mrs. Duncan; and I'll help him out of this trouble if I can." As Gilbert walked home, he said, "Is not Abraham Soames a very bad boy?" "If Jemmy is to be believed," replied Gregory. "But if he had not disobeyed his master, he would have come to no harm; he knew very well he was doing wrong: it is of no use laying all the fault on Abraham." |