. But
ye'll no' need to, Mistress Burnham, ye'll no' need to."

The lady was sitting with her veil across her face, smiling now and
then, wiping away a tear or two, listening carefully to catch every
word.

Then the witness was turned over to the counsel for the defence, for
cross-examination.

"What else has the boy done or said to make you think he is of gentler
birth than his companions in the breaker?" asked Goodlaw, somewhat
sarcastically.

"Why, the lad does na swear nor say bad words."

"What else?"

"He's tidy wi' the clothes, an' he _wull_ be clean."

"What else?"

"What else? wull, they be times when he says things to ye so quick
like, so bright like, so lofty like, 'at ye'd mos' think he was na
human like the rest o' us. An' 'e fears naught, ye canna mak' 'im
afeard o' doin' what's richt. D'ye min' the time 'e jumpit on the
carriage an' went doon wi' the rest o' them to bring oot the burnit
uns? an' cam' up alive when Robert Burnham met his death? Ah, mon! no
coward chiel 'd 'a' done like that."

"Might not a child of very lowly birth do all the things you speak of
under proper training and certain influences?"

"Mayhap, but it's no' likely, no' likely. Hold! wait a bit! I dinna
mean but that a poor mon's childer can be bright, braw, guid boys an'
girls; they be, I ken mony o' them mysel'. But gin the father an' the
mither think high an' act gentle an' do noble, ye'll fin' it i' the
blood an' bone o' the childer, sure as they're born. Now, look ye! I
kenned Robert Burnham, I kenned 'im weel. He was kind an' gentle an'
braw, a-thinkin' bright things an' a-doin' gret deeds. The lad's like
'im, mind ye; he thinks like 'im, he says like 'im, he does like 'im.
Truth, I daur say, i' the face o' all o' ye, that no son was ever more
like the father than the lad a-settin' yonner is like Robert Burnham
was afoor the guid Lord took 'im to 'imsel'."

Bachelor Billy was leaning forward across the railing of the
witness-stand, speaking in a voice that could be heard in the remotest
corner of the room, emphasizing his words with forceful gesticulation.
No one could for a moment doubt his candor and earnestness.

"You are very anxious that the plaintiff should succeed in this suit,
are you not?" asked Goodlaw.

"I dinna unnerstan' ye, sir."

"You would like to have this boy declared to be a son of Robert
Burnham, would you not?"

"For the lad's sake, yes. But I canna tell ye how it'll hurt me to
lose 'i