Mr. White, as in duty bound, said yes, but he said yes in a cool, lawyerlike way, which showed that he did not take quite so much stock in Dr. Small as his wife did.  This was a comfort to Ralph, who sat picturing to himself the silent flattery which Dr. Small’s eyes paid to his Aunt Matilda, and the quiet expression of pain that would flit across his face when Ralph’s name was mentioned.  And never until that moment had Hartsook understood how masterful Small’s artifices were.  He had managed to elevate himself in Mrs. White’s estimation and to destroy Ralph at the same time, and had managed to do both by a contraction of the eyebrows!

But the silence was growing painful and Ralph thought to break it and turn the current of talk from himself by asking after Mrs. White’s son.

“Where is Walter?”

“Oh!  Walter’s doing well.  He went down to Clifty three weeks ago to study medicine with Henry Small.  He seems so fond of the doctor, and the doctor is such an excellent man, you know, and I have strong hopes that Wallie will be led to see the error of his ways by his association with Henry.  I suppose he would have gone to see you but for the unfavorable reports that he heard.  I hope, Ralph, you too will make the friendship of Dr. Small.  And for the sake of your poor, dead mother”—­here Aunt Matilda endeavored to show some emotion—­“for the sake of your poor dead mother—­”

But Ralph heard no more.  The buckwheat-cakes had lost their flavor.  He remembered that the colt had not yet had his oats, and so, in the very midst of Aunt Matilda’s affecting allusion to his mother, like a stiff-necked reprobate that he was, Ralph Hartsook rose abruptly from the table, put on his hat, and went out toward the stable.

“I declare,” said Mrs. White, descending suddenly from her high moral stand-point, “I declare that boy has stepped right on the threshold of the back-door,” and she stuffed her white handkerchief into her pocket, and took down the floor-cloth to wipe off the imperceptible blemish left by Ralph’s boot-heels.  And Mr. White followed his nephew to the stable to request that he would be a little careful what he did about anybody in the poor-house, as any trouble with the Joneses might defeat Mr. White’s nomination to the judgeship of the Court of Common Pleas.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION.

When Ralph got back to Miss Nancy Sawyer’s, Shocky was sitting up in bed talking to Miss Nancy and Miss Semantha.  His cheeks were a little flushed with fever and the excitement of telling his story; theirs were wet with tears.  “Ralph,” whispered Miss Nancy, as she drew him into the kitchen, “I want you to get a buggy or a sleigh, and go right over to the poor-house and fetch that boy’s mother over here.  It’ll do me more good than any sermon I ever heard to see that boy in his mother’s arms to-morrow.  We can keep the old lady over Sunday.”