It was not a question which the man found it easy to reply to. He smiled, and then asked, rather lamely:
“And what might your name be?”
The justly offended youth retorted mercilessly:
“It might be Napoleon Bonaparte, but, as it happens, it’s Robert Mainwaring Yorke.”
Hammond felt that he had put himself in the wrong. He tried to address the boy like one on his own level.
“I called here to see Miss Belle Yorke. She is your sister, I suppose?”
Robert Mainwaring Yorke had not yet lost his sense of irritation.
“Well, you don’t think she’s my mother, do you?” he replied, with severity. “She’s my eldest sister,” he condescended to explain.
“Oh, then there are several of you?” said Hammond, wonderingly. It was the first time he had ever heard of Belle Yorke’s family.
“What do you think?” returned the boy. “There’s Lizzie—that’s my second sister; and Arthur—he’s a year younger than me; and Reggie—he’s a year younger; and the kid—he’s only four. Anything else you’d like to know?”