“Won’t the law help us?” I asked.
“The law!” cried Mr. Perkins, in a voice of intense horror. “W’y, Sam, the law’s more to be dreaded than a woman. It’s an invention of the devil to keep poor mortals from becomin’ too happy in this ’ere vale o’ tears. My boy, if ye ever has to choose between the law an’ a woman, my advice is to commit suicide at once. It’s quicker an’ less painful.”
“But the law stands for justice,” I protested.
“That’s the bluff it puts up,” said Uncle Naboth, “but it ain’t so. An’ where’s your proof agin Mrs. Ranck, anyhow? Cap’n Steele foolishly put the house in her name. If she ain’t honest enough to give it up, no one can take it from her. An’ he kep’ secret about the fortune that was left in his room, so we can’t describe the things you’ve been robbed of. Altogether, it’s jest a hopeless case. The she-devil has made up her mind to inherit your fortune, an’ you can’t help yourself.”
As I stared into the little man’s face the tears came into my eyes and blurred my sight. He thrust the red handkerchief into my hand, and I quickly wiped away the traces of unmanly weakness. And when I could see plainly again my uncle was deeply involved in one of his fits of silent merriment, and his shoulders were shaking spasmodically. I waited for him to cough and choke, which he proceeded to do before regaining his gravity. The attack seemed to have done him good, for he smiled at my disturbed expression and laid a kindly hand on my shoulder.
“Run up to the house, my lad, an’ get your bundle of clothes,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t worry over what’s gone. I’ll take care o’ you, hereafter.”
I gave him a grateful glance and clasped his big, horny hands in both my own.
“Thank you, uncle,” said I; “I don’t know what would have become of me if you had not turned up just as you did.”
“Lucky; wasn’t it, Sam? But run along and get your traps.”
I obeyed, walking slowly and thoughtfully back to the house. When I tried to raise the latch I found the door locked.