It don't make much difference; I ain't
got anybody left now but Uncle Billy, an', if he goes with me, I guess
I can stan' it till it's through with."
It was the first time in his life that Ralph had ever spoken in so
despondent a way, and Bachelor Billy was alarmed. "Bear up, lad," he
said, "bear up. We'll mak' the best o' it; an' they canna do much harm
till ye wi' Uncle Billy a-stannin' by."
Mrs. Maloney had come to her door and stood there, looking at the trio
in sorrowful surprise.
"Good-by, Mrs. Maloney!" said Ralph going up to her. "It ain't likely
I'll ever come back here any more, an' you've been very good to me,
Mrs. Maloney, very good indeed, an'--an'--good-by!"
"An' where do ye be goin' Ralphy?"
"Back to Gran'pa Simon's, I s'pose. He's come for me and he's got a
right to take me."
The sheriff was looking uneasily at his watch. "Come," he said, "we'll
have to hurry to catch the train."
The good woman bent down and kissed the boy tenderly. "Good-by to ye,
darlin'," she said, "an' the saints protict ye." Then she burst into
tears, and, throwing her apron up before her face, she held it against
her eyes and went, backward, into the house.
Ralph laid hold of Bachelor Billy's rough hand affectionately, and
they walked rapidly away.
At the bend in the street, the boy turned to look back for the last
time upon the cottage which had been his home. A happy home it had
been to him, a very happy home indeed. He never knew before how dear
the old place was to him.
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