To feel that he was
nothing to her now, no more, indeed, than any other ragged, dust-black
boy in Burnham Breaker, this was what brought pain and sorrow to his
heart, and made the hot tears come into his eyes in spite of his
determined effort to hold them back.
He was sitting in his accustomed chair, facing the dying embers of a
little wood fire that he had built, for the morning was a chilly one.
Behind him the door was opened and some one entered the room from the
street. He thought it was Bachelor Billy, just come from work, and
he straightened up in his chair and tried to wipe away the traces of
tears from his face before he should turn to give him greeting.
"Is that you, Uncle Billy?" he said; "ain't you home early?"
He was still rubbing industriously at his eyes. Receiving no answer he
looked around.
It was not Uncle Billy. It was Simon Craft.
Ralph uttered a cry of surprise and terror, and retreated into a
corner of the room. Old Simon, looking at him maliciously from under
his bushy brows, gradually extended his thin lips into a wicked smile.
"What!" he exclaimed, "is it possible that you are afraid of your
affectionate old grandfather? Why, I thought you desired nothing so
much as to go and live with him and be his pet."
The boy's worst fears were realized. Old Simon had come for him.
"I won't go back with you!" he cried. "I won't! I won't!" Then,
changing his tone to one of appealing, he continued: "You didn't come
for me, did you, gran'pa? you won't make me go back with you, will
you?"
"I'm afraid I can't do without you any longer," said Craft, coming
nearer and looking Ralph over carefully.
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