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.
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