Noll said something about not being hungry, and presently Trafford asked, with the stem and gloomy look upon his face,—
"Did you know that Brother Noll, your father, did a very unwise thing when he put you into my hands?"
Noll started at the strangeness of the question, and the bright color came into his face.
"Do you mean that papa did wrong?" he asked, quickly.
"Yes, so far as your good is concerned. I can be no companion for you. You would have got more good anywhere else than here."
"Don't say that, Uncle Richard!" Noll pleaded.
"Why not?" Trafford queried, not unkindly; "it is the truth."
"Papa said that you—you—" There was such a choking in Noll's throat that he could get no further, and stopped, looking very much distressed. Trafford took the boy's hand in his own.
"My boy," he said, huskily, calling him by that title for the first time, "I'm but a poor wreck at best. I can teach you no good, and God knows I wouldn't be the means of putting a shadow of evil in your heart. Your father says, 'Make him such a man, before God, as you know I would have him.' He asked too much, Noll. Why, boy, I can't rule myself." Noll said not a word. Uncle Richard was getting to be more of a mystery to him than Culm Rock had been. "And," continued Trafford, "we will leave the matter thus: you shall be at liberty, after the first month, to go or stay, as you like. If you go, it shall be to stay away forever; if you stay, it shall be at your own risk. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Richard."