“It can’t be that you are our uncle!” said little Jack.
“I am Joseph Hicks,” said the engineer, “and Mary Hicks, your mother, was my sister.”
“That was mother’s name before she married father,” confessed the boy. “But it does not seem possible that you—are—her—brother. You are not a bit like her.”
“Well, I’m her brother. That’s why I follered ye. I saw in your sister’s face the resemblance to Mary. It was so remarkable that I could not help following you about. She is dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He is dead, too.”
“Good thing! Never liked him. He was too stuck up. He wouldn’t take a drink, or do anything like other people. I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Sir,” cried the boy, “he was my father!”
“That’s no credit to you. But you’re orphans now—all alone in the world.”