"Does--does she know?"

"Now, Ralph," said Sharpman, "now comes the strangest part of the story. Your mother believes you to be dead. She believes that you perished in the accident at Cherry Brook, and has mourned for you ever since the time of that disaster."

"Am I the boy--am I the Ralph she lost?"

"The very one, but we cannot make her think so. I went to her, myself, this morning, and told her that you are alive. I told her who you are, and all about you. She knows you, but she will not believe that you are her son. She wants better evidence than we can give to her, outside of the courts."

"An' won't she never believe it? won't she never take me?"

The boy's voice and look revealed the sudden clashing of his hope.

"Oh, yes, Ralph! in time; I do not doubt that in good time she will recognize you and take you to her home. She has so long believed you to be dead that it is hard for her to overcome the prejudice of that belief."

Then another fear came into the lad's mind.

"Are you sure," he cried out, "that I am her boy? are you sure I'm the right one?"

"Oh, yes!" said the lawyer, a.s.suringly, "oh, yes! there's no mistake about that, there isn't the shadow of a doubt about that. We shall establish your ident.i.ty beyond question; but we shall have to do it in the courts. When it is once done no one can prevent you from taking the name and the property to which you are ent.i.tled and using them as you see fit."

"But my mother!" said Ralph, anxiously, "my mother; she's all I care about; I don't want the property if I can't have her."

"And you shall have her, my boy. Mrs. Burnham said to me this morning, that, until your claim was duly proved in a court of law, she would have no legal right to accept you as her son; but that, when your ident.i.ty is once established in that way, she will receive you into her home and her heart with much joy."

Ralph looked up with brightening eyes.

"Did she say that?" he exclaimed, "an' will she do it?"

"I have no doubt of it, none whatever."

"Then let's get at it right away," said the boy, impatiently, "it won't take very long, will it?"

"Oh! some little time; several months, may be; may be longer."

Ralph's face fell again.

"I can't wait that long!" he exclaimed; "I'll go to her myself; I'll tell her ev'rything; I'll beg her to take me. Do you think she would?

do you?"

"Oh, Ralph! now be reasonable. That would never do. In the first place, it would be useless. She has seen you, she knows you; she says you are not her son; you can't prove it to her. Besides that, she has no legal right to take you as her son until the courts have pa.s.sed upon the question of your ident.i.ty. If she should attempt to do so, the other heirs of Robert Burnham would come in and contest your claim, and you would be in a far worse position to maintain your rights than you are now,--oh! far worse. No, you must not go to Mrs.

Burnham, you must not go to her at all, until your sonship is fully established. You must keep cool, and wait patiently, or you will destroy every chance you have."

"Well, then, I'll try to; I'll try to wait an' do what you tell me to; what shall I do first?"

"The first thing to be done, Ralph, is to have the court appoint a guardian for you. You can't do anything for yourself, legally, you know, till you are twenty-one years old; and whatever action is taken in your behalf, must be taken by a guardian. It will be his place to establish your ident.i.ty, to restore you to your mother, and to take care of your property. Now, who would you prefer to have act in that capacity?"

"Well, I don't know; there's Uncle Billy, he's the best friend I've got; wouldn't he do?"

"Do you mean William Buckley, with whom you are living?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why, he would do if he were rich, or had rich friends who would go on his bond. You see, the guardian would have to give a bond to the extent of a great many thousand dollars for the faithful performance of his duties. Could Buckley do that?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. He ain't rich, himself, an' I never heard of his havin' any rich friends."

"Whom else can you think of?"

"Won't Mrs. Burnham do?"

"Oh, no! it might be necessary for the guardian to bring suit against her."

"There ain't anybody else that I can think of," said Ralph, despairingly, after a moment's pause.

"Well, then, I don't know what we shall do. If you can't find some one who is able to qualify for this trust, we may as well stop right here.

I guess we've done all we can for the boy, Mr. Craft?"

Craft nodded and smiled. He was enjoying the lawyer's diplomacy with Ralph, exceedingly.

The lad was again in the depths of anxiety. He looked from one to the other of the men with appealing eyes.

"Ain't they some way to fix it, Mr. Sharpman?" he said. "Can't you do sumpthin' for me?"

"Oh! I couldn't be your guardian, my boy, the law wouldn't allow that; and Mr. Craft, here, hasn't money enough. I guess we'll have to give up the idea of restoring you to your mother, and let you go back to work in the breaker again."

"That'd be too bad," said the boy. "Don't do that; I couldn't stan'

that--now. Can't you see my mother again, Mr. Sharpman, an' get her to take me--some way?"

"It can't be done, Ralph. There's only one way to fix it, and that is to get a guardian for you. If we can't do that, we may as well give it all up."

The anxiety and disappointment expressed in the lad's face was pitiful to look upon.

Then Craft spoke up.

"Ralph has been very unkind and ungrateful to me," he said, "but I have always been his best friend. I saved his life; and I've spent time and money and lost my health on his account. But I'm willing to do him a favor yet, if he thinks he can appreciate it. I'll act as his guardian and take care of his property for him, if he'll be a good boy and do as we tell him."

"I'll do everything I can," said Ralph, eagerly, "'ceptin' to go back an' live with you; everything--but Mr. Sharpman said you wasn't rich enough."

"No, I ain't," responded the old man; "and I don't know how to get around that difficulty, unless Mr. Sharpman will help me and be my bondsman."

Ralph turned his face pleadingly to Sharpman.

"Oh, now, Craft!" said the lawyer, smiling, and shaking his head, "don't you think you are presuming a little too much on my friendship?

If you were the only one to be trusted, why, I might do it; but in this case I would have to depend on the boy as well, and there's no knowing how he would misbehave. According to your own story, he is a wilful, wrong-headed lad, who has already rewarded your kindness to him with base ingrat.i.tude. Oh, no! I could trust you, but not him."

"Mr. Sharpman!" pleaded the boy, "Mr. Sharpman, I never meant to be mean or unkind to Gran'pa Simon. I never knew't he saved my life, never. I thought he abused me, I did; I was sure of it; that's the reason I run away from 'im. But, you see, I'm older now; I'd be more reason'ble; I'll do anything you tell me to, Mr. Sharpman,--anything, if you'll only fix it for Gran'pa Simon so's't he can help me get back to my mother."

The lawyer sat for a few moments as if lost in thought. Finally, he raised his head and said:--

"I've a great mind to try you, Ralph. Do you think I can really place full confidence in you?"