It was the knowledge that Ralph's mother was in the workhouse, and that his little home had been broken up--perhaps for ever--that checked the shout and turned what might have been laughter into tears. Any attempt at merriment would have been a mockery under such circumstances. They were glad to see Ralph back again--infinitely glad; but knowing what they did, the pathos of his coming touched them to the quick. Very few words were spoken, but tears fell like rain. Ralph wondered, as he pressed his way forward toward William Menire's shop, and yet he had not the courage to ask any questions. Behind the people's silent sympathy he felt there was something that had not yet been revealed. But what it was he could not guess. That his mother and Ruth were alive, he knew, for William had told him so. Perhaps something had happened in St. Goram that William had not told him, which affected others more than it affected him. William went in front and elbowed a passage for Ralph. "We be fine an' glad to see 'ee 'ome again," people whispered here and there, and Ralph would smile and say "Thank you," and then push on again. William was in a perfect fever of excitement. He had been hoping almost against hope all the day. Whether his little scheme had succeeded or miscarried, he could not tell yet. He would know only when he crossed his own threshold. What his little scheme was he had confided to no one. If it failed, he could still comfort himself with the thought that he had done his best. But he still hoped and prayed that what he had tried so hard to accomplish had come to pass. CHAPTER XX WILLIAM MENIRE'S RED-LETTER DAY The crowd pressed close to the door of William's shop, but no one dared to enter. Ralph followed close upon his heels, still wondering and fearing. William lifted the flap of his counter and opened the door of the living-room beyond. No sooner had he done so than his heart gave a sudden bound. Ruth Penlogan came forward with pale face and eyes full of tears. William's little plan had succeeded. Ruth was present to receive her brother. William tried to speak, but his voice failed him, and with a sudden rush of tears he turned back into the shop, closing the door behind him. Ruth fell on her brother's neck, and began to sob. He led her to a large, antiquated sofa, and sat down by her side. He did not speak. He could wait till she had recovered herself. She dried her eyes at length and looked up into his face. "You did not expect to see me here?" she questioned. "No, I did not, Ruth; but where is mother?" "Has he not told you?" "Told me? She is not dead, is she?" "No, no. She would be happier if she were. Oh, Ralph, it breaks my heart. I wish we had all died when father was taken." "But where is she, Ruth? What has happened? Do tell me." "She is in the workhouse, Ralph." He sprang to his feet as though he had been shot. "Ruth, you lie!" he said, almost in a whisper.