aybe a month."

This opened a terrible prospect to poor Phil, who thought Mr. Sprague
quite capable of inflicting such a severe punishment.

"If he does I won't live through it," he said desperately.

"You don't mean to kill yourself!" said Oscar, startled.

"No, but I shall starve. I am awfully hungry now."

"What, after eating two slices of bread?"

"They were very thin, and I have exercised a good deal."

"Then I advise you to make it up with pa. If you get down on your knees
and tell him you are sorry, perhaps he will forgive you, and let you
out."

Phil did not feel willing to humiliate himself in that way, and remained
silent.

"There ain't any bed for me to sleep on," he said, looking around.

"You will have to sleep on the floor. I guess you'll get enough of it."

Oscar locked the door on the outside and went down-stairs. Disagreeable
as he was Phil was sorry to have him go. He was some company, and when
left to himself there was nothing for him to do. If there had been any
paper or book in the room it would have helped him tide over the time,
but the apartment was bare of furniture.

There was one window looking out on the side of the house. Phil posted
himself at this, and soon saw Oscar and his father leave the premises
and go down the street. Nahum had a bottle in his hand, and Phil
concluded he was going to the drinking saloon to get a fresh bottle of
whisky.

Phil continued to look out of the window.

Presently he saw a boy pass whom he knew--a boy named Arthur Burks.

He opened the window and called out eagerly, "Arthur!"

Arthur turned round and looking up espied Philip.

"Hello!" he cried. "What are you doing up there?"

"I am locked in."

"What for?"

"I accidentally dropped a bottle of whisky, and spilled it. Mr. Sprague
got mad and locked me up here."

"That's a shame. How long have you got to stay?"

"Oscar says he may keep me here a month."

"He's only frightening you. Old Sprague wouldn't dare to do it."

"That isn't all. I am half starved. He only gave me two small slices of
bread for dinner."

"He's a mean old hunks. I just wish you could come round to our house.
We'd give you enough to eat."

"I wish I were there now," sighed Philip.

"I've got an idea," said Arthur, brightening up. "What time do Mr.
Sprague and Oscar go to bed?"

"Very early. About nine o'clock."

"Would you run away if you could?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do. At half-past