He was like a young eagle which, having grown wing-feathers that will bear the strain of high air currents, has been pecked out of the nest.

No doubt the young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in time he would have felt within himself the urge to go.

Leave Bud alone, and soon or late he would have gone--perhaps with compunctions against leaving home, and the feeling that he was somehow a disappointment to his parents.

He would have explained to his father, apologized to his mother.

As it was, he resented the alacrity with which his father was pushing him out.
So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar into its case and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and went off to the bunkhouse to eat supper with the boys instead of sitting down to the table where his mother had placed certain dishes which Buddy loved best--wanting to show in true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him.
Later--it was after Bud had gone to bed--mother came and had a long talk with him.