Monday morning came, and the whole family stood on the grass plot in front of the house, ready to bid Harry good-by. He was encumbered by no trunk, but carried his scanty supply of clothing wrapped in a red cotton handkerchief, and not a very heavy bundle at that. He had cut a stout stick in the woods nearby, and from the end of this suspended over his back bore the bundle which contained all his worldly fortune except the twenty-five cents which was in his vest pocket.
``I
don't like to have you go,'' said his mother, anxiously. ``Suppose you don't get work?''
``Don't worry about me, mother,'' said Harry, brightly. ``I'll get along somehow.''
``Remember you've got a home here, Harry, whatever happens,'' said his father.
``I
shan't forget, father.''
``Good-by, mother,'' said Harry, feeling an unwonted moistening of the eyes, as he reflected that he was about to leave the house in which he had lived since infancy.
``Good-by, my dear child,'' said his mother, kissing him. ``Be sure to write.''
``Yes, I will.''
So with farewell greetings Harry walked out into the world. He had all at once assumed a man's responsibilities, and his face grew serious, as he began to realize that he must now look out for himself.
He walked five miles without stopping. He felt tired, and sat down by the roadside to rest before going further.
Harry walked six miles farther, and then decided that it was time to rest again.
He sat down again beside the road, and untying the handkerchief which contained his worldly possessions, he drew therefrom a large slice of bread and began to eat with evident relish. There was a slice of cold meat also, which he found tasted particularly good.
``I
wonder whether they are thinking of me at home,'' he said to himself.
Harry rested for a couple of hours, sheltered from the sun by the foliage of the oak beneath which he had stretched himself.
He resumed walking, but we will not dwell upon the details of his journey. At six o'clock he was twenty-five miles from home. He was alarmed by the darkening of the sky.
It was evident that a storm was approaching. He looked about him for shelter from the shower, and a place where he could pass the night.
The clouds were darkening, and the shower was evidently not far off. It was a solitary place, and no houses were to be seen nearby. But nearly a quarter of a mile back Harry caught sight of a small house, and jumping over the fence directed his steps toward it. It was not upon a public road, but there was a narrow lane leading to it from the highway. Probably it was occupied by a poor family, Harry thought. Still it would shelter him from the storm which had even now commenced.
He knocked at the door.
Immediately it was opened and a face peered out -- the face of a man advanced in years. It was thin, wrinkled and haggard. He demanded, ``Who are you?''
``My name is Harry Walton.''
``What do you want?''
``Shelter from the storm. It is going to rain.''
``Come in,'' said the old man, and opening the door wider, he admitted our hero.
The old man sat down opposite Harry, and stared at him, till our hero felt somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable.
Harry knew that the old man must be crazy, or at least a monomaniac, and, though he seemed harmless enough, it was of course possible that he might be dangerous. He was almost sorry that he had sought shelter here.
The old man had risen, and, taking a teakettle, suspended it over the fire. Amonomaniac though he was, he knew how to make tea. Presently he took from the cupboard a baker's roll and some cold meat, and when the tea was ready invited Harry to be seated at the table. Our hero did so willingly.
``What if mother could see me now?'' he thought.
Still the rain poured down. It showed no signs of slackening. He saw that it would be necessary to remain where he was through the night.
``Can you accommodate me till morning?'' he asked.
``Certainly,'' said the old man. ``I shall be glad to have you stay here.''
``Very well.''
The supper was plain enough, but it was relished by our young traveler, whose long walk had stimulated a naturally good appetite.
At nine o'clock he began to feel drowsy, and intimated as much to his host. The old man conducted him to an upper chamber, where there was a bed upon the floor.
``You can sleep there,'' he said.
``Where do you sleep?'' asked Harry.
``Down below but I shall not go to bed until late.''
``Very well,'' said Harry. ``Good-night.''
``Good-night.''
``I am glad he is not in the room with me,'' thought Harry. ``I don't think there is any danger, but it isn't comfortable to be too near a crazy man.''
