The Errand Boy | Page 7

closin' up business?" said Reuben shrewdly.
"So I am. I'm going to leave Planktown."
"You don't say? Well, I declare! Where are you goin'?"
"To New York, I guess."
"Got any prospect there?"
"Yes."
This was not, perhaps, strictly true--that is, Phil had no definite
prospect, but he felt that there must be a chance in a large city like New
York for any one who was willing to work, and so felt measurably
justified in saying what he did.
"I hadn't thought of buyin' a boat," said Reuben thoughtfully.
Phil pricked up his ears at the hint of a possible customer.
"You'd better buy mine," he said quickly; "I'll sell it cheap."
"How cheap?"
"Ten dollars."
"That's too much."

"It cost me fifteen."
"But it's second-hand now, you know," said Reuben.
"It's just as good as new. I'm taking off five dollars, though, you see."
"I don't think I want it enough to pay ten dollars."
"What will you give?"
Reuben finally agreed to pay seven dollars and seventy-five cents, after
more or less bargaining, and to pay the money that evening upon
delivery of the goods.
"I don't think I've got anything more to sell," said Phil thoughtfully.
"There's my skates, but they are not very good. I'll give them to Tommy
Kavanagh. He can't afford to buy a pair."
Tommy was the son of a poor widow, and was very much pleased with
the gift, which Phil conveyed to him just before supper.
Just after supper he took his gun and the key of his boat over to Reuben
Gordon, who thereupon gave him the money agreed upon.
"Shall I tell Mrs. Brent I am going away?" Phil said to himself, "or
shall I leave a note for her?"
He decided to announce his resolve in person. To do otherwise would
seem too much like running away, and that he had too much
self-respect to do.
So in the evening, after his return from Reuben Gordon's, he said to
Mrs. Brent:
"I think I ought to tell you that I'm going away to-morrow."
Mrs. Brent looked up from her work, and her cold gray eyes surveyed
Phil with curious scrutiny.

"You are going away!" she replied. "Where are you going?"
"I think I shall go to New York."
"What for?"
"Seek my fortune, as so many have done before me."
"They didn't always find it!" said Mrs. Brent with a cold sneer. "Is there
any other reason?"
"Yes; it's chiefly on account of what you told me yesterday. You said
that I was dependent upon you."
"So you are."
"And that I wasn't even entitled to the name of Brent."
"Yes, I said it, and it's true."
"Well," said Phil, "I don't want to be dependent upon you. I prefer to
earn my own living."
"I am not prepared to say but that you are right. But do you know what
the neighbors will say?"
"What will they say?"
"That I drove you from home."
"It won't be true. I don't pretend to enjoy my home, but I suppose I can
stay on here if I like?"
"Yes, you can stay."
"You don't object to my going?"
"No, if it is understood that you go of your own accord."

"I am willing enough to take the blame of it, if there is any blame."
"Very well; get a sheet of note-paper, and write at my direction."
Phil took a sheet of note-paper from his father's desk, and sat down to
comply with Mrs. Brent's request.
She dictated as follows:
"I leave home at my own wish, but with the consent of Mrs. Brent, to
seek my fortune. It is wholly my own idea, and I hold no one else
responsible. "PHILIP BRENT."
"You may as well keep the name of Brent," said his step-mother, "as
you have no other that you know of."
Phil winced at those cold words. It was not pleasant to reflect that this
was so, and that he was wholly ignorant of his parentage.
"One thing more," said Mrs. Brent. "It is only eight o'clock. I should
like to have you go out and call upon some of those with whom you are
most intimate, and tell them that you are leaving home voluntarily."
"I will," answered Phil.
"Perhaps you would prefer to do so to-morrow."
"No; I am going away to-morrow morning."
"Very well."
"Going away to-morrow morning?" repeated Jonas, who entered the
room at that moment.
Phil's plan was briefly disclosed.
"Then give me your skates," said Jonas.
"I can't. I've given them to Tommy Kavanagh."

"That's mean. You might have thought of me first," grumbled Jonas.
"I don't know why. Tommy Kavanagh is my friend and you are not."
"Anyway, you can let me have your boat and gun."
"I have sold them."
"That's