She leaned over and kissed him.

“There’s only one thing you can do, Ralph, to show me that; you can come back here when the trial is over and be my boy and live with me always.”

“Oh, I’ll come!”

“And then we’ll see what you shall do.  Would you like to go to school and study?”

“Oh, may I?”

“Certainly! what would you like to study?”

“Readin’.  If I could only study readin’ so as to learn to read real good.  I can read some now; but you know they’s such lots o’ things to read ’at I can’t do it fast enough.”

“Yes, you shall learn to read fast, and you shall read to me.  You shall read books to me.”

“What! whole books?—­through?”

“Yes, would you like that?”

“Oh!” and the boy clasped his hands together in unspeakable delight.

“Yes, and you shall read stories to Mildred, your little sister.  I wonder where she is; wouldn’t you like to see her?”

“Yes, ma’am, I would, very much.”

“I’ll send for her.”

“You’ll have books of your own, you know,” continued the lady, as she returned across the room, “and playthings of your own, and a room of your own, near mine, and every night you’ll kiss me good-night, will you not, and every morning you will kiss me good-morning?”

“Oh, indeed I will! indeed!”

In through the curtained door-way came little Mildred, her blond curls tossing about her face, her cheeks rosy with health, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

She had seen Ralph and knew him, but as yet she had not understood that he was her brother.  She could not comprehend it at once, there were many explanations to be made, and Ralph’s story was retold; but when the fact of his relation to her became fixed in her mind, it was to her a truth that could never afterward be shaken.

“And will you come to live with us?” she asked him.

“Yes,” said Ralph, “I ’xpect to.”

“And will you play with me?”

“Well, I—­I don’t know how to play girl’s plays, but I guess I can learn,” he said, looking inquiringly up into his mother’s face.

“You shall both learn whatever you like that is innocent and healthful and pretty to play, my children.”

The house-maid, at the door, announced dinner.

“Come,” said the lady, placing an arm about each child, “come, let us eat together and see how it seems.”

She drew them gently to the dining-room and placed them at the table, and sat where she could look from one to the other and drink in the joy of their presence.

But Ralph had grown more quiet.  It was all so new and strange to him and so very beautiful that he could do little more than eat his food, and answer questions, and look about him in admiring wonder.

When dinner was finished the afternoon had grown late, and Ralph, remembering Bachelor Billy’s fear, said that he ought to go.  They did not try to detain him; but, with many kind words and good-wishes and bright hopes for the morrow, they kissed him good-night and he went his way.  The sky was still cloudless; the cool of the coming evening refreshed the air, the birds that sing at twilight were already breaking forth into melody as if impatient for the night, and Ralph walked out through it all like one in a dream.