“I know I belong to you, Gran’pa Simon,” he said, “an’ I know I’ve got to mind you; but please don’t make me go back to live with you; please don’t!  I’ll do anything else in the world you want me to; I’ll give you ev’ry dollar I earn if you’ll let me stay here, ev’ry dollar; an’ I’ll work hard, too, ev’ry day.  I’ll—­I’ll give you—­I’ll give you—­

“Well, what’ll you give me?  Out with it!”

It was a desperate chance; it called for sacrifice, but Ralph felt that he would offer it gladly if he could thereby be saved.

“I’ll give you,” he said, “all the money I’ve got saved up.”

“How much money have you got saved up?” The light of hatred in the man’s eyes gave place, for the time being, to the light of greed.

“About thirty-two dollars.”

“Well, give it to me, then, and be quick about it!”

Ralph went to a small closet built into the wall over the chimney, and took from it a little box.

That box contained his accumulated savings.  With a large portion of the money he had thought to buy new clothing for himself.  He had determined that he would not go to live with Mrs. Burnham, dressed like a beggar.  He would have clothes befitting his station in life.  Indeed, he and Uncle Billy were to have gone out the day before to make the necessary purchases; but since the change came the matter had not been thought of.  Now he should pay it to Simon Craft as the price of his freedom.  He was willing and more than willing to do so.  He would have given all he ever hoped to earn to save himself from that man’s custody, and would have considered it a cheap release.

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.