He would have to bid farewell to all his sweet dreams of
home, and his high plans for life, and step back into the old routine
of helpless poverty and hopeless toil. He felt that he was not quite
ready to do that yet; heart, mind, body, all rebelled against it. He
would wait and hope for some way out, without the sacrifice of all
that he had longed for. His hand fell nerveless to his side. He still
stood waiting on the step in the beating rain.
But then, it was wrong to keep silent, wrong! wrong! wrong!
The word went echoing through his mind like the stern sentence of
some high court; conscience again pushed her way to the front, and
the struggle in the boy's heart went on with a fierceness that was
terrible.
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.
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