“I say, bub, I'm glad I run away,” he remarked, aside, to Herbert. “We live enough sight better than we did at home.” Leaving the boys to pursue their journey, we will return to the bereaved parents, and inquire how they bore their loss. When Mrs. Barton rose to commence the labors of the day, she found that no wood was on hand for the kitchen fire. “Abner's gittin' lazier and lazier,” she soliloquized. “I'll soon have him up.” She went to the foot of the stairs, and called “Abner!” in a voice by no means low or gentle. There was no answer. “That boy would sleep if there was an earthquake,” she muttered. “Come down here and split some wood, you lazy boy!” she cried, still louder. Again no answer. “He hears, fast enough, but he don't want to work. I'll soon have him down.” She ascended the stairs, two steps at a time, and opened the door of her son's room. If Abner had been in bed his mother would have pulled him out, for her arm was vigorous, but the bed was empty. “Well, I vum!” she ejaculated, in surprise. “Ef that boy isn't up already. That's a new wrinkle. And the little boy gone, too. What can it mean?” It occurred to Mrs. Barton that Abner and Herbert might have got up early to go fishing, though she had never known him to make so early a start before. “I reckon breakfast'll bring 'em round,” she said to herself. “I reckon I shall have to split the wood myself.” In half an hour breakfast was ready. It was of a very simple character, for the family resources were limited. Mr. Barton came downstairs, and looked discontentedly at the repast provided. “This is a pretty mean breakfast, Mrs. B.,” he remarked. “Where's your meat and taters?” “There's plenty of 'em in the market,” answered Mrs. Barton. “Then, why didn't you buy some?” “You ought to know, Joel Barton. You give me the money, and I'll see that you have a good breakfast.” “Where's all the money that man Ford gave you?” “Where is it? It's eaten up, Mr. Barton, and you did your share. Ef you'd had your way, you'd have spent some of the money for drink.” “Why don't he send you some more, then?” “Ef you see him anywheres, you'd better ask him. It's your business to provide me with money; you can't expect one boy's board to support the whole family.” “It's strange where them boys are gone,” said Joel, desirous of changing the subject. “Like as not, they hid under the bed, and fooled you.” “Ef they did, I'll rout 'em out,” said Mrs. Barton, who thought the supposition not improbable. Once more she ascended the stairs and made an irruption into the boy's chamber. She lifted the quilt, and peered under the bed. But there were no boys there. Looking about the room, however, she discovered something else. On the mantelpiece was a scrap of paper, which appeared to be so placed as to invite attention. “What's that?” said Mrs. Barton to herself. A moment later she was descending the staircase more rapidly than she had gone up just before.