CHAPTER II
PHIL HEARS HIS DISMISSAL
"Where you been, young man?" The question was a snarl ratherthan a sentence.
"To school, Uncle, of course."
"School's been out more than an hour. I say, where have youbeen?"
"I stopped on the way for a few minutes."
"You did?" exploded Abner Adams. "Where?"
"Teddy Tucker and I stopped to read a circus bill over there onClover Street. We did not stop but a few minutes. Was there anyharm in that?"
"Harm? Circus bill--"
"And I want to go to the circus, too, Uncle, when it comes here.You know? I have not been to anything of that sort since motherdied--not once. I'll work and earn the money. I can go in theevening after my work is finished. Please let me go, Uncle."
For a full minute Abner Adams was too overcome with his emotionsto speak. He hobbled about in a circle, smiting the ground withhis cane, alternately brandishing it threateningly in the airover the head of the unflinching Phil.
"Circus!" he shouted. "I might have known it! I might haveknown it! You and that Tucker boy are two of a kind. You'llboth come to some bad ending. Only fools and questionablecharacters go to such places--"
"My mother and father went, and they always took me," replied theboy, drawing himself up with dignity. "You certainly do notinclude them in either of the two classes you have named?"
"So much the worse for them! So much the worse for them. Theywere a pair of--"
"Uncle, Uncle!" warned Phil. "Please don't say anything againstmy parents. I won't stand it. Don't forget that my mother wasyour own sister, too."
"I'm not likely to forget it, after she's bundled such a baggageas you into my care. You're turning out a worthless, good-for-nothing loaf--"
"You haven't said whether or not I might go to the circus,Uncle," reminded Phil.
"Circus? No! I'll have none of my money spent on any suchworthless--"
"But I didn't ask you to spend your money, even though you haveplenty of it. I said I would earn the money--"
"You'll have a chance to earn it, and right quick at that. No,you won't go to any circus so long as you're living under myroof."
"Very well, Uncle, I shall do as you wish, of course," answeredPhil, hiding his disappointment as well as he could. The ladshifted his bundle of books to the other hand and started slowlyfor the house.
Abner Adams hobbled about until he faced the lad again, an angrygleam lighting up his squinting eyes.
"Come back here!"
Phil halted, turning.
"I said come back here."
The lad did so, his self-possession and quiet dignity neverdeserting him for an instant. This angered the crabbed old unclemore than ever.
"When will you get through school?"
"Tomorrow, I believe."
"Huh! Then, I suppose you intend to loaf for the rest of thesummer and live on my hard earned savings. Is that it?"
"No, sir; I hadn't thought of doing anything of the sort. Ithought--"
"What did you think?"
"I thought I would find something to do. Of course, I do notexpect to be idle. I shall work at something until school beginsagain next fall, then, of course, I shall not be able to do somuch."
"School! You've had enough school! In my days boys didn't spendthe best part of their lives in going to school. They worked."
"Yes, sir; I am willing to work, too. But, Uncle, I must have aneducation. I shall be able to earn so much more then, and, ifnecessary, I shall be able to pay you for all you have spent onme, which isn't much, you know."
"What, what? You dare to be impudent to me? You--"
"No, sir, I am not impudent. I have never been that and I nevershall be; but you are accusing me wrongfully."
"Enough. You have done with school--"
"You--you mean that I am not to go to school any more--that Ihave got to go through life with the little I have learned? Isthat what you mean, Uncle?" asked the boy, with a sinking heart.
"You heard me."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Work!"
"I am working and I shall be working," Phil replied.
"You're right you will, or you'll starve. I have been thinkingthis thing over a lot lately. A boy never amounts to anything ifhe's mollycoddled and allowed to spend his days depending onsomeone else. Throw him out and let him fight his own way.That's what my father used to tell me, and that's what I'm goingto say to you."
"What do you mean, Uncle?"
"Mean? Can't you understand the English language? Have I got todraw a picture to make you understand? Get to work!"
"I am going to as soon as school is out."
"You'll do it now. Get yourself out of my house, bag andbaggage!"
"Uncle, Uncle!" protested the lad in amazement. "Would you turnme out?"
"Would I? I have, only you are too stupid to know it. You'llthank me for it when you get old enough to have some sense."
Phil's heart sank within him, and it required all hisself-control to keep the bitter tears from his eyes.
"When do you wish me to go?" he asked without a quaver in hisvoice.
"Now."
"Very well, I'll go. But what do you think my mother would say,could she know this?"
"That will do, young man. Do your chores, and then--"
"I am not working for you now, Uncle, you know, so I shall haveto refuse to do the chores. There is fifty cents due me from Mr.Churchill for fixing his chicken coop. You may get that, I don'twant it."
Phil turned away once more, and with head erect entered thehouse, going straight to his room, leaving Abner Adams fuming andstamping about in the front yard. The old man's rage knew nobounds. He was so beside himself with anger over the fanciedimpudence of his nephew that, had the boy been present, he mighthave so far forgotten himself as to have used his cane on Phil.
But Phil by this time had entered his own room, locking the doorbehind him. The lad threw his books down on the bed, droppedinto a chair and sat palefaced, tearless and silent. Slowly hiseyes rose to the old-fashioned bureau, where his comb and brushlay. The eyes halted when at length they rested on the picture ofhis mother.
The lad rose as if drawn by invisible hands, reached out andclasped the photograph to him. Then the pent-up tears welled upin a flood. With the picture pressed to his burning cheek PhilForrest threw himself on his bed and sobbed out his bitter grief.He did not hear the thump of Abner Adams' cane on the bedroomdoor, nor the angry demands that he open it.
"Mother, Mother!" breathed the unhappy boy, as his sobs graduallymerged into long-drawn, trembling sighs.
Perhaps his appeal was not unheard. At least Phil Forrest sprangfrom his bed, holding the picture away from him with both handsand gazing into the eyes of his mother.
Slowly his shoulders drew back and his head came up, while anexpression of strong determination flashed into his own eyes.
"I'll do it--I'll be a man, Mother!" he exclaimed in a voice inwhich there was not the slightest tremor now. "I'll fight thebattle and I'll win."
Phil Forest had come to the parting of the ways, which he facedwith a courage unusual in one of his years. There was little tobe done. He packed his few belongings in a bag that had been hismother's. The lad possessed one suit besides the one he wore,and this he stowed away as best he could, determining to press itout when he had located himself.
Finally his task was finished. He stood in the middle of thefloor glancing around the little room that had been his home forso long. But he felt no regrets. He was only making sure thathe had not left anything behind. Having satisfied himself onthis point, Phil gathered up his bundle of books, placed thepicture of his mother in his inside coat pocket, then threw openthe door.
The lad's uncle had stamped to the floor below, where he wasawaiting Phil's coming.
"Good-bye, Uncle," he said quietly, extending a hand.
"Let me see tha
t bag," snapped the old man.
"The bag is mine--it belonged to my mother," explained the boy."Surely you don't object to my taking it with me?"
"You're welcome to it, and good riddance; but I'm going to findout what's inside of it."
"You surely don't think I would take anything that doesn't belongto me--you can't mean that?"
"Ain't saying what I mean. Hand over that bag."
With burning cheeks, Phil did as he was bid, his unwavering eyesfixed almost sternly on the wrathful face of Abner Adams.
"Huh!" growled the old man, tumbling the contents out on thefloor, shaking Phil's clothes to make sure that nothing wasconcealed in them.
Apparently satisfied, the old man threw the bag on the floor withan exclamation of disgust. Phil once more gathered up hisbelongings and stowed them away in the satchel.
"Turn out your pockets!"
"There is nothing in them, Uncle, save some trinkets of my ownand my mother's picture."
"Turn them out!" thundered the old man.
"Uncle, I have always obeyed you. Obedience was one of thethings that my mother taught me, but I'm sure that were she hereshe would tell me I was right in refusing to humiliate myself asyou would have me do. There is nothing in my pockets that doesnot belong to me. I am not a thief."
"Then I'll turn them out myself!" snarled Abner Adams, startingforward.
Phil stepped back a pace, satchel in hand.
"Uncle, I am a man now," said the boy, straightening to his fullheight. "Please don't force me to do something that I should besorry for all the rest of my life. Will you shake hands withme?"
"No!" thundered Abner Adams. "Get out of my sight before I laythe stick over your head!"
Phil stretched out an appealing hand, then hastily withdrew it.
"Good-bye, Uncle Abner," he breathed.
Without giving his uncle a chance to reply, the lad turned,opened the door and ran down the steps.
The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings; Or, Making the Start in the Sawdust Life Page 3
