Though he had
determined to run away, his soul was not free from the tyranny of
his late taskmaster, and he thought with uneasiness and dread of
the possibility of his being conveyed back to him.
"Well, mother," said Paul, glancing at the clock as he rose from
the breakfast table, "it is almost nine o'clock--rather a late
hour for a business man like me."
"You are not often so late, Paul."
"It is lucky that I am my own employer, or I might run the risk
of being discharged. I am afraid the excuse that I was at Mrs.
Hoffman's fashionable party would not be thought sufficient. I
guess I won't have time to stop to shave this morning."
"You haven't got anything to shave," said Jimmy.
"Don't be envious, Jimmy. I counted several hairs this morning.
Well, Phil, are you ready to go with me? Don't forget your
fiddle."
"When shall we see you again, Philip?" said Mrs. Hoffman.
"I do not know," said the little minstrel.
"Shall you not come to the city sometimes?"
"I am afraid the padrone would catch me," said Phil.
"Whenever you do come, Phil," said Paul, "come right to me. I
will take care of you. I don't think the padrone will carry us
both off, and he would have to take me if he took you.
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