He might take it into his head to send me back to the poorhouse. He
really needs a younger boy, one he can slam about more. I'm getting
so I can fight back. I don't fancy hanging on here till he makes up
his mind to get another boy, and running away from the poorhouse
isn't a simple matter. I'd better make the plunge while there's good
swimming."
It was stifling in the loft, and Betty felt almost giddy. She sat at
the top of the ladder, her feet hanging over the edge of the floor
and regarded Bob anxiously.
"Well, perhaps you had better go early next week," she said
judiciously. "It would be dreadful if he did return you to the
poorhouse."
"Therefore, I'm going to-night," announced Bob coolly. "There's an
eleven-thirty train from Glenside that will make some sort of
connection with the southern local at the Junction. Wish me luck,
Betty!"
"To-night!" gasped Betty in dismay. "Oh, Bob! don't go to-night.
Wait just one night more, ah, please do!"
Betty had the truly feminine horror of quick decisions, and she was
frankly upset by this determination of Bob's. Even as she pleaded she
knew he had made up his mind and that it was useless to ask him to
change it.
"I don't see how you can go--you're not ready," she argued
feverishly.
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