Suddenly the door was opened from the inside, and Bachelor Billy stood there, shading his eyes with his hand and peering out into the darkness.
"Ralph," he said, "is that yo' a-stannin' there i' the rain? Coom in, lad; coom in wi' ye! Why!" he exclaimed, as the boy entered the room, "ye're a' drippin' wet!"
"Yes, Uncle Billy, it's a-rainin' pirty hard; I believe I—I believe I did git wet."
The boy's voice sounded strange and hard even to himself. Bachelor
Billy looked down into his face questioningly.
"What's the matter wi' ye, Ralph? Soun's like as if ye'd been a-cryin'. Anything gone wrong?"
"Oh, no. Only I'm tired, that's all, an'—an' wet."
"Ye look bad i' the face. Mayhap an' ye're a bit sick?"
"No, I ain't sick."
"Wull, then, off wi' the wet duddies, an' we'll be a-creepin' awa' to bed."
As Ralph proceeded to remove his wet clothing, Bachelor Billy watched him with increasing concern. The boy's face was white and haggard, there were dark crescents under his eyes, his movements were heavy and confused, he seemed hardly to know what he was about.