"And you're sent here to stay," she said, with a weary sigh, as she folded the sheet. "Dear me, what a place for anyone to come to!"
"Yes," replied the boy, understanding her first words; "in few months—tree, four, Monsieur Rice come too."
"His name is Dave," said the officer; "but, la! I calculate they have all sorts of queer names for folks in them out of the way countries."
When Paul had finished his meal he returned to his old place on the little stool by Jube's side, and the pair sat looking wistfully at each other, oppressed by the strangeness and gloom of the place.
Mrs. Allen paid little attention to them. She washed the dishes with her usual care, and put them away in the corner cupboard, brushed the hearth, moved restlessly about, finding that relief in constant occupation which the mind is sure to seek during a great sorrow.
Paul sat watching her with his large, wistful eyes, for she had strangely excited some inexplicable sympathy in his heart.
After a time a feeble voice called from the bedroom.
"Mother; where are you, mother?"
Katharine had awakened, and was startled to find herself alone; but at the summons the old woman went into the bedroom, and the murmur of their voices reached the kitchen faintly.
In a few moments Mrs. Allen came out with a cup in her hand. She went to the fire, took a tin basin from the hearth, and poured a portion of the contents into the cup, but her hands shook so tremulously that the hot liquid spilled over them.