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?"

"Yes, sir. I couldn't stand it any longer. The farmer and his hired man
used to whip me if I made a mistake, or if I didn't get up early enough.
And they used to get up before daylight. So I made up my mind to run
away, and go back to the city.

"I used to think the country was nice," the ragged boy went on, "but I
don't any more. I don't mind working, but I don't want to be starved
and whipped all the while. So I ran off, but I guess I got lost, for I
can't find the way back to the city. I don't know what to do. When I got
here, and saw that sign about resting, I thought that was what I needed.
So I came in."

"And I'm glad you did," said Mrs. Brown. "Now you eat this and you'll
feel better. Then I'll look at your sore foot, and we'll see what to do
with you."

"You--you won't have me arrested; will you?" asked the boy.

"No, indeed!" said Mr. Brown.

"And you--you won't send me back to that farmer?"

"No, I think not. He has no right to make you work for him if you don't
want to. Don't be afraid," said Bunny's father. "We'll look after you."

A little later the ragged boy had eaten a good meal. Then he was given
some of Bunker Blue's old clothes, for he was almost as large as the
red-haired boy, and the old clothes were thrown away.

Mr. Brown looked at the boy's sore foot, and found that there was a big
sharp thorn in one toe. When this thorn had been taken out, and the toe
bound up with salve, the ragged boy said he felt much better. Perhaps I
shouldn't call him a ragged boy any longer, for he was not, with
Bunker's clothes on.

"Mother, is he going to stay with us?" asked Bunny that evening when it
was nearly supper time, and the new boy--Tom Vine--had gone after a pail
of