Hope, Laura Lee / 2008-06-10 00:00:00
"You have run away; haven't you?" Grandpa Brown asked.
"Yes--yes, sir, I did run away."
"From home?"
"No, I haven't had any home, that I can remember. I didn't run away from
home. I was working."
"On a farm?"
"No, sir. I didn't work on a farm."
"Where was it then?"
"I--I'd rather not tell," the boy said, looking around him as though he
thought some one might be after him.
"Look here!" said Grandpa Brown. "You haven't been a bad boy; have you?"
"No--no, sir. I've tried to be good. But the--the people I worked for
made it hard for me. They wanted me to do things I couldn't, and they
beat me and didn't give me enough to eat. So I just ran away. They may
come after me--that's why I don't want to tell you. If you don't know
where I ran from, you won't know what to tell them if they come after
me. But I'll go now."
The boy got up from the table, as though to go out into the night. It
was raining now.
"No, I won't let you go," said Grandpa Brown. "And I won't give you up
to the people who beat you. I'll look into this.
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