As he and Betty tramped back after delivering the cow, Bob's mind
was busy with plans that would free him from Mr. Peabody and set him
forward on the road that led to fortune. Bob included making a
fortune in his life work, having a shrewd idea that money rightly
used was a good gift.
"Where do you suppose your uncle is?" he asked Betty, coming out of
a reverie wherein he bade Bramble Farm and all the dwellers there
with a single exception a cold and haughty farewell.
"Why, I imagine he is in Washington," returned Betty confidently.
"His last letter was from there, though two days ago a postal came
from Philadelphia. I think likely he went up to see his lawyer and
get his mail. You know it was held there while he was out West. I
hope he has all my letters now, and last night I wrote him another,
asking him if I couldn't leave here. I said I'd rather go to the
strictest kind of a boarding school; and so I would. I'll mail the
letter this afternoon in Glenside."
"It's too long a walk for you to take on a hot afternoon," grumbled
Bob. "I'm going over to Trowbridge, and I'll mail it there for you."
Betty pulled the letter from her blouse pocket and handed it to him.
"Where's Trowbridge?" she asked, as they came in sight of the
boundary line of Bramble Farm and sighted Mr.
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