you have picked up some very low
associates. And you go around at night, I am told. You get over here by
daylight, and I hear that you have made common cause with a lame soldier
who acts as a spy for thieves, and that your running about of night is
likely to get you into trouble."

Ralph was hit this time. "I suppose," he said, "that you've been
listening to some of Henry Small's lies."

"Why, Ralph, how you talk! The worst sign of all is that you abuse such
a young man as Dr. Small, the most exemplary Christian young man in the
county. And he is a great friend of yours, for when he was here last
week he did not say a word against you, but looked so sorry when your
being in trouble was mentioned. Didn't he, Mr. White?"

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.