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Updated: May 26, 2025
But you should not try to impose so glittering a romance on the verdant credulity of an old acquaintance at the first meeting in many weary years." "To your faithful friend and true, Tell the truth, whate'er you do." "Tis true!" asserted Ralph, stoutly. "Gran'pa Simon says so, an' Lawyer Sharpman says so, an' Mrs. Burnham, she she she almost believes it, too, I guess."
We insist on the rejection of the offer." The judge sat for a minute in silence, as if weighing the matter carefully. Finally he said: "We do not think the testimony is competent, Mr. Goodlaw. Although the point is a new one to us, we are inclined to look upon the law of the case as Mr. Sharpman looks on it. We shall be obliged to refuse your offer. We will seal you a bill of exceptions."
Then, a bright idea came to him. "Ralph," he said, "take the witness-stand." Sharpman saw that he was foiled. He turned to the court, white with passion. "I protest," he exclaimed, "against this proceeding! It is contrary to both law and courtesy. I demand the privilege of consulting with my client!"
"I caught a glimpse of you jest once." "When?" "When you went across the room an' gave Rhymin' Joe the money." Sharpman flushed angrily. He felt that he was treading on dangerous ground in this line of examination. He went on more cautiously. "At what time did you leave my office last night?" "Right after Rhymin' Joe did. I went out to find him."
If they found for the plaintiff, they would throw the boy's fortune into the hands of Craft and Sharpman, where they feared the greater part of it would finally remain. If they found for the defendant, they would practically consign the lad to a life of homelessness and toil.
Old Simon sat staring at the boy incredulously. His anger had changed for the moment into wonder. He could not understand the cause of Ralph's action. Sharpman had not told him of the interview with Rhyming Joe he had not thought it advisable. "Who are you, then?" inquired Goodlaw. "I'm Simon Craft's grandson." The excitement in the room ran higher.
"Well, my friend; what can I do for you?" he asked. "I cam' to see aboot Ralph, sir; Ralph as lives wi' me." "Oh! are you Buckley? William Buckley?" "I am, sir. I want to know when saw ye the lad last?" "Why, about eleven o'clock yesterday. He came up on the noon train, didn't he?" "I ha' no' seen 'im." "Haven't seen him!" exclaimed Sharpman, in a voice expressive of much alarm.
Good intentions and promises are well enough in their way, but they are no security against misfortune, you see. I guess we'll have to drop the scheme, after all." Sharpman arose and walked the floor in apparent perplexity, while Craft, resting his hands on his cane, and staring silently at the lawyer, tried to conceive some plan to prevent this golden opportunity from eluding his grasp.
My father says he is, an' Lawyer Sharpman says he is, an' you don't know nothin' 'bout it." Whereupon a great confusion of voices arose, some of the boys denying Ralph's claim of a right to participate in the privileges allotted to the Burnham family, while most of them vigorously upheld it. Finally, Ralph made his voice heard above the uproar:
Sharpman was still looking calmly at his visitor. "Well?" he said, inquiringly. "Well, to make a long story short, if I get two hundred dollars to-night, I keep my knowledge of Simon Craft and his grandson to myself. If I don't get two hundred dollars to-night, I go to Goodlaw the first thing to-morrow morning and offer my services to the defence.
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