"I've been thinkin', s'pose this suit should go against us, do you b'lieve Mrs. Burnham would do anything more for me?"
"She's a gude woman, Ralph. Na doot she'd care for ye; but ye could na hope to have her tak' ye to her hame, an they proved ye waur no' her son."
"An' then—an' then I'd stay right along with you, wouldn't I?"
"I hope so, lad, I hope so. I want ye s'ould stay wi' me till ye find a better place."
"Oh, I couldn't find a better place to stay, I know I couldn't, 'xcept with my—'xcept with Mrs. Burnham."
"Wull, ye need na worry aboot the matter. Ye'll ha' naught to fear fra the trial, I'm thinkin'. Gae to sleep noo; ye'll feel better i' the mornin', na doot."
Ralph was silent, but only for a minute. A new thought was working slowly into his mind.
"But, Uncle Billy," he said, "s'pose they should prove, to-morrow, 'at
Simon Craft is my own gran'father, would I have to—Oh! Uncle Billy!"
The lad started up in bed, sat there for a moment with wildly staring eyes, and then sprang to the floor trembling with excitement and fear.
"Oh, don't!" he cried; "Uncle Billy, don't let him take me back there to live with him! I couldn't stan' it! I couldn't! I'd die! I can't go, Uncle Billy! I can't!"