“No-o, sir. Only my chum and I talk about it,” said Nancy, slowly.
“Curious, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Nancy, slowly. “And yet, it is more than curiosity. Suppose my—mother was alive—or, my father——”
“Ha!”
Mr. Gordon passed a big hand over his big face. He smoothed out something there—either a wry smile or a spasm of pain.
“Suppose, instead, you had a bad-tempered step-mother, or a drunken brute of an uncle, or a miser of a grandfather, or some other evilly-conditioned relative. Wouldn’t you rather be as you are than to know such relatives?”
He looked at her sharply.
“We-ell—yes—perhaps——”
“Ha! you don’t know how well off you are,” grunted Mr. Gordon. “Well! I’m busy. What more do you want?”