"I'll go," agreed Bob sullenly.

"Then see that you do. And you needn't bother to stop for supper
--you've several hours' lost time to make up," said Peabody nastily.
"Now go!"

He shook the boy till his teeth rattled and then released him with a
powerful sling that sent him spinning into the dust. Bruised and
shaken, Bob picked himself up and started for the barn.

"You hold your tongue a bit better, or something'll come your way,"
said Peabody shortly, eyeing Betty with disfavor and turning on his
heel at a shout of "Ho, Boss!" from the foreman of the balers.

"Hateful!" cried Betty stormily, climbing down from the gate. "He's
the most absolutely hateful man that ever lived! I wonder if he could
send Bob back to the poorhouse?"

The same thought was troubling Bob, she found, when after supper she
went out to the barn and climbed the loft ladder to see him. She had
brought him some bread and water, the latter contributed by the
Peabody pump and the bread saved from Betty's own meal.

"Do you know, Betty," confided the boy, wiping the heavy
perspiration from his face with a distressingly hot looking red
cotton handkerchief, "I've been thinking over what old Peabody said.
He might take it into his head to send me back to the poorhouse. He
really needs a younger boy, one he can slam about more. I'm getting
so I can fight back. I don't fancy hanging on here till he makes up
his mind to get another boy, and running away from the poorhouse