sir."

"Where did you go on Sunday morning?"

"Uncle Billy an' me went down to the chapel to meetin'."

"From there where did you go?"

"Back home."

"And had your dinner?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you do after that?"

"Me an' Uncle Billy went up to the breaker."

"What breaker?"

"Burnham Breaker."

"Why did you go there?"

"Jest for a walk, an' to see how it looked."

"How long did you stay there?"

"Oh, we hadn't been there more'n fifteen or twenty minutes 'fore Mrs.
Burnham's man came for me an' took me to her house."

Sharpman straightened up in his chair. His drag-net had brought up
something at last. It might be of value to him and it might not be.

"Ah!" he said, "so you spent a portion of yesterday afternoon at Mrs.
Burnham's house, did you?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"How long did you stay there?"

"Oh! I shouldn't wonder if it was two or three hours."

"Did you see Mrs. Burnham alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have a long talk together?"

"Yes, sir, a very nice long talk."

Sharpman thought that if he could only lead the jury, by inference,
to the presumption that what had taken place to-day was understood
between Ralph and Mrs. Burnham yesterday it would be a strong point,
but he knew that he must go cautiously.

"She was very kind to you, wasn't she?"

"Yes, sir; she was lovely. I never had so good a time before in all my
life."

"You took dinner with her, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have a good dinner?"

"It was splendid."

"Did you eat a good deal?"

"Yes, sir, I think I eat a great deal."

"Had a good many things that were new to you, I presume?"

"Yes, sir, quite a good many."

"Did you think you would like to go there to live?"

"Oh, yes! I did. It's beautiful there, it's very beautiful. You don't
know how lovely it is till you get there. I couldn't help bein' happy
in a home like that, an' they couldn't be no nicer mother'n Mrs.
Burnham is, nor no pirtier little sister. An' everybody was jest as
good to me there! Why, you don't know what a--"

The glow suddenly left the boy's face, and the rapture fled from his
eyes. In the enthusiasm of his description he had forgotten, for the
moment, that it was not all to be his, and when the memory of his loss
came back to him, it was like a plunge into outer darkness. He stopped
so unexpectedly, and in such apparent mental distress that people
stared at him in astonishment, wondering what had happened.

After a moment of sil