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 CHAPTER XV.

 RUN AWAY FROM HOME.

 Every tedious stride I make,
 Will but remember me, what a deal of world
 I wander from the jewels that I love.
 Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
 To foreign passages, and in the end,
 Having my freedom, boast of nothing else
 But that I was a journeyman to grief?"
 -Skakespeare.

 H, how sore and bitter and miserable was
 Jack's heart as he trudged along the road.
 His thoughts were so confused at first that
he was scarcely able to discern one idea from another.
All he seemed able to feel was an intolerable sense
of injustice which had been done him, and the feeling
of this injustice, together with the sharp smarting of
his shoulders, roused in him a blind rage.
 He kicked savagely at the stones which lay in his
way as he went along, and every now and then the
crimson flush would swell over his face and his eyes
would flash anew.
 He had been walking a full hour before he re-