his piteous appeal seemed to have no effect upon the cruel man, and he
continued to whip the boy, despite his cries and entreaties, until
his arm fairly ached from the exertion and Toby's body was crossed and
recrossed with the livid marks of the cane.

"Now let's see whether you'll 'tend to your work or not!" said the
man as he flung Toby from him with such force that the boy staggered,
reeled, and nearly fell into the little brook that flowed by the
roadside. "I'll make you understand that all the friends you've whined
around in this show can't save you from a lickin' when I get ready to
give you one! Now go an' do your work that ought to have been done an
hour ago!"

Mr. Lord walked away with the proud consciousness of a man who has
achieved a great victory, and Toby was limping painfully along toward
the cart that was used in conveying Mr. Lord's stock in trade, when he
felt a tiny hand slip into his and heard a childish voice say:

"Don't cry, Toby. Sometime, when I get big enough, I'll make Mr. Lord
sorry that he whipped you as he did; and I'm big enough now to tell him
just what kind of a man I think he is."

Looking around, Toby saw his little acquaintance of the evening
previous, and he tried to force back the big tears that were rolling
down his cheeks as he said, in a voice choked with grief: "You're awful
good, an' I don't mind the lickin' when you say you're sorry for me. I
s'pose I deserve it for runnin' away from Uncle Dan'l."

"Did it hurt you much?" she asked, feelingly.

"It did when he was doin' it," replied Toby, manfully, "but it don't a
bit, now that you've come."

"Then I'll go and talk to that Mr. Lord, and I'll come and see you again
after we get into town," said the little miss, as she hurried away to
tell the candy vender what she thought of him.

That day, as on all others since he had been with the circus, Toby went
to his work with a heavy heart, and time and time again did he count the
money which had been given him by kind hearted strangers, to see whether
he had enough to warrant his attempting to run away. Three dollars and
twenty-five cents was the total amount of his treasure, and, large
as that sum appeared to him, he could not satisfy himself that he
had sufficient to enable him to get back to the home which he had so
wickedly left. Whenever he thought of this home, of the Uncle Daniel
who had in charity cared for him--a motherless, fatherless boy--and of
returning to it, w