The big horse kissed his head all over, but made him no other answer.



Chapter XIII.

Clare the vagabond.


The next morning Clare happened to do something not altogether to the
farmer's mind. It was a matter of no consequence--only cleaning that
side of one of the cow-houses first which was usually cleaned last. He
gave him a box on the ear that made him stagger, and then stand
bewildered.

"What do you mean by staring that way?" cried the farmer, annoyed with
himself and seeking justification in his own eyes. "Am I not to box
your ears when I choose?" And with that he gave him another blow.

Then first it dawned on Clare that he was not wanted, that he was no
good to anybody. He threw down his scraper, and ran from the
cow-house; ran straight from the farm to the lane, and from the lane
to the high road. Buffets from the hand of his only friend, and the
sudden sense of loneliness they caused, for the moment bereft Clare of
purpose. It was as if his legs had run away with him, and he had
unconsciously submitted to their abduction.

At the mouth of the lane, where it opened on the high road, he ran
against Tommy turning the corner, eager to find him. The eyes of the