"

"Then I'll come home. But I want to try. There must be something for me
to do in the world."

"There's another thing, Harry. It takes money to travel round, and I
haven't got any means to give you."

"I don't want any, father. I mean to work my way. I've got twenty-five
cents to start with. Now, father, what do you say?"

"I'll speak to your mother about it."

"To-day?"

"Yes, as soon as I go in."

With this Harry was content. He had a good deal of confidence that he
could carry his point with both parents. He went into the house, and
said to his mother:

"Mother, father's going to speak to you about my going away from home.
Now don't you oppose it."

"Do you really think it would be a good plan, Harry?"

"Yes, mother."

"And if you're sick will you promise to come right home?"

"Yes, I'll promise that."

"Then I won't oppose your notion, though I ain't clear about its being
wise."

"We'll talk about that in a few months, mother."

"Has Harry spoken to you about his plan of going away from home?" asked
the farmer, when he reentered the house.

"Yes," said Mrs. Walton.

"What do you think?"

"Perhaps we'd better let the lad have his way. He's promised to come
home if he's taken sick."

"So let it be, then, Harry. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as I can."

"You'll have to wait till Monday. It'll take a day or two to fix up your
clothes," said his mother.

"All right, mother."

"I don't know but you ought to have some new shirts. You haven't got but
two except the one you have on."

"I can get along, mother. Father hasn't got any money to spend for me.
By the time I want some new shirts, I'll buy them myself."

"Where do you think of going, Harry? Have you any idea?"

"No, mother. I'm going to trust to luck. I shan't go very far. When I've
got fixed anywhere I'll write, and let you know."

In the evening Harry resumed the "Life of Franklin," and before he was
ready to go to bed he had got two thirds through with it. It possessed
for him a singular fascination. To Harry it was no alone the "Life of
Benjamin Franklin." It was the chart by which he meant to steer in the
unknown career which stretched before him. He knew so little of the
world that he trusted implicitly to that as a guide, and he silently
stored away the wise precepts in conformity with which the great
practical philosopher had shaped and molded his life.

During that evening, however, another chance was offered to