He took the money from the box,--it was all paper money,--and counted
it carefully out into Old Simon's trembling hand. There were just
thirty-two dollars.
"Is that all?" said Craft, folding the bills and putting them into an
inside pocket as he spoke.
"Yes, that's all."
"You haven't got any more hidden around the house anywhere, have you?
Don't lie to me, now!"
"Oh, no! I've given you ev'ry cent I had, ev'ry single cent."
"Well, then, get your hat and come along."
"Wh--what?" Ralph was staring at the man in astonishment. He thought
he had just bought his freedom, and that he need not go.
"Get your hat and come along, I say; and be quick about it? I can't
wait here all day."
"Where--where to?"
"Why, home with me, of course. Where would I take you?"
"But I gave you the money to let me stay here with Uncle Billy; you
said you would take it for that."
"No, I didn't. I told you to give it to me. The money belongs to me
the same as you do. Now, are you coming, or do you want me to help
you?"
Ralph's face was white with indignation. He had been willing to do
what was right. He thought he had made a fair bargain; but now,
this--this was an outrage. His spirit rose against it. The old sense
of fearlessness took possession of him. He looked the man squarely
in the eyes. His voice was firm and his hands were clenched with
resolution. "I will not go with you," he said.
"What's that?" Craft looked down on the boy in astonishment.
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