"And for more than that, too."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Bobbsey quickly.
"I mean that you made that boy, Will Watson, run away."
"Run away!" exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, in surprise.
"Yes, run away," repeated the farmer. "He didn't come down to
breakfast this mornin', and when I went to call him to do the chores,
he was gone. And, what's more, I think you had somethin' to do with
him runnin' away," went on the angry farmer. "You put a lot o' notions
in his head. You're to blame!"
"Now look here!" exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey. "We don't know any more about
that boy running away than you do, Mr. Hardee. If he has gone, I'm
sorry for him, for he may have a hard time. I'm not sorry I stopped
you from beating him, though. Perhaps he is around the farm
somewhere."
"No, he isn't!" insisted the farmer. "He's gone. What clothes he had
he took with him. He's run away, and it's your fault, too. I put up
that fence last night to pay you back for interferin', an' now I'm
glad I did, for you're to blame for Will runnin' off."
"I tell you that you are mistaken," went on Mr. Bobbsey. "But if you
feel that way about it, there is no use talking to you. Then you won't
take down that wire fence and let us pass?"
"No, I won't, and I order you, and your boat, out of my part of the
creek.
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