“I—­I couldn’t run very fast with my sore foot, or I’d a’ got away from you,” he said slowly.

“But why should you want to get away?” asked Mr. Brown.

“Well, I took some of your stuff—­I was hungry and I went through the ice box—­and I s’posed you’d be looking for a policeman to have me arrested.  That’s why I ran.  But I couldn’t go very far, so I hid in the bushes.  I thought I could get away when you weren’t looking.  Here’s your stuff,” and he held out to Mrs. Brown what was left of the bread and meat.  Bunny and Sue thought the ragged boy looked hungrily at the food as he offered to give it back.

“You poor boy!” said Mrs. Brown, “I don’t want it!  You’re welcome to that and more, if you need it.  You must be hungry!”

“I am, lady.  I haven’t had anything since morning.  I started to go back to the city, but it’s farther than I thought, and I lost my way.  When I struck this camp, I saw the sign—­’Rest-a-While,’ so I sat down to rest.  Then I saw the ice box, and I was hungry, and—­and I—­well, I just helped myself.”

His face was sunburned, so it could not be told whether he was blushing or not, but he hung his head as if ashamed of what he had done.  He still held out the meat to Mrs. Brown.

Splash, who, now that he knew the boy was a friend of the family, did not bark any more, slid gently up, and began nibbling at the meat and bread in the boy’s hand.

“Oh, look at Splash!” laughed Sue.

“Here, Splash!  That isn’t for you!” cried Mr. Brown.  “But you might as well give it to him now, now that he’s had his tongue on it,” said Mr. Brown to the ragged boy.  “We’ll give you some more.”

“Yes, sit right up to the table,” said Mrs. Brown.  “I’ll get you a good meal.”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears, and he turned his head away so they would not be seen.

“Where did you come from?” asked Daddy Brown, as Mrs. Brown was setting out some food.

“I come from Benton,” the boy answered, naming a city about twenty miles away.  “I’ve lived there all my life until about a week ago, and I wish I was back there now.”

“How did you come to leave?”

“Well, all my folks died, and I couldn’t make much of a living selling papers, running errands and blacking shoes, so when a farmer down in the city market, said he wanted a boy on his farm, I said I’d come and work for him.

“I rode out on his wagon, after he had sold all his stuff one day, and I came to a place called Fayetteville.”

“Yes, I know where that is,” said Mr. Brown.  “It’s on the other side of the lake.”

“I went to work for the farmer,” said the ragged boy, who gave his name as Tom Vine, “but it was worse than being in the city.  I never had a minute’s rest and I didn’t get enough to eat.  I wasn’t used to working out in the hot sun, and my legs and arms seemed as if they’d burn off me.”

“Yes, I can see you’re pretty well burned,” said Mr. Brown.  “Then you ran away?”