The Adventures of a Boy ReporterMorrison, Harry Steele
General
The Adventures of a Boy Reporter
Morrison, Harry Steele
Reporters and reporting -- Juvenile fiction
Poor Archie was weak from fright, but there was nothing to do but to
obey. He looked at the vast field before him, and made up his mind that
he would get nothing to eat until night, anyhow, for it was already
nearly noon. He felt very much like bursting into tears, but he was too
proud to give way to his feelings. But he couldn’t help wishing that he
were at home, playing with the members of the Hut Club. “Those boys are
much better off than I am,” he said, over and over, “though they have
made no effort to improve themselves.” After a time, however, his
ambition returned, and as he looked ahead into the future, and
remembered the wonderful things he was going to accomplish, he felt more
like working.
He finished the field at five o’clock in the afternoon, and was almost
fainting from hunger and from the hard work. The ploughing was fairly
well done, but Hiram Tinch could see no merit in the work. He swore at
Archie again, and gave him a supper of mush and milk. Mrs. Tinch sat by,
and Archie could see that she did not approve of his treatment. The poor
woman seemed afraid to speak, almost, but it was plain that she had a
good heart. So when Archie heard a noise in his garret room that night,
he was not surprised to see Mrs. Tinch at the window, placing some
doughnuts and sandwiches there for him to eat.
CHAPTER V.
THE NIGHT AMONG THE RUINS--THE CAMP-FIRE OF THE TRAMPS.
IT seemed to Archie that he had just fallen asleep when old Hiram Tinch
was shaking him awake. “Git up out o’ here now, ye lazy beggar, and
git to the field and finish that there ploughin’,” he growled, and the
frightened lad awakened from a horrible nightmare, only to find a worse
experience awaiting him in the light of day. He hastily drew on his
trousers, and didn’t wait to don either shoes or stockings, for if he
was to spend the day ploughing in a field, he knew he would be more
comfortable in his bare feet. When he reached the kitchen, he found
that Farmer Tinch had already eaten his breakfast, though it was not
daylight. Archie was glad that he was out of the way, and good Mrs.
Tinch was glad of it, too, for she was able to give the boy a good
breakfast, and some good advice with it. “Don’t you pay no attention to
what my man says, laddie. He’s a powerful man to swear and carry on, but
I don’t think he’ll have the meanness to strike you. Ef he does, ye must
come to me, and I’ll see thet he doesn’t do it no more.”
Archie was grateful for this spirit of friendliness, but in his heart
he thought that cruel words were often more painful than lashes, and he
heartily wished that his week was over.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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