"Would not somebody trust us?" suggested I.

"I never asked anybody for credit in my life--and for a horse and
gig--they'd laugh at me. Still--yes--stay here a minute, and I'll
try."

He came back, though not immediately, and took my arm with a reckless
laugh.

"It's of no use, Phineas--I'm not so respectable as I thought.
What's to be done?"

Ay! what indeed! Here we were, two friendless youths, with not a
penny in our pockets, and ten miles away from home. How to get
there, and at midnight too, was a very serious question. We
consulted a minute, and then John said firmly:

"We must make the best of it and start. Every instant is precious.
Your father will think we have fallen into some harm. Come, Phineas,
I'll help you on."

His strong, cheery voice, added to the necessity of the
circumstances, braced up my nerves. I took hold of his arm, and we
marched on bravely through the shut-up town, and for a mile or two
along the high-road leading to Norton Bury. There was a cool fresh
breeze: and I often think one can walk so much further by night than
by day. For some time, listening to John's talk about the stars--he
had lately added astronomy to the many things he tried to learn--and
recalling with him all that we had heard and seen this day, I hardly