"Careful!" his companion smiled as she said it and pretended to frown at him in such a merry way that the hint of a smile appeared on his face.
"Uncle Nick likes to have me say I don't know. He says it's honest."
"Well, no two people could be more different than Uncle Nick and me. I want you to know, and I want you to say so, because it's what we all have a right to. It is what God wants of us; and, Bertie, if you ever feel like talking about your mother to me, you must do so."
The boy glanced up at her, then down at the pebbles which he pulled over in silence.
"Where do you and your uncle live?"
"In Newark."
"Do you go to school there?"
"No."
"Where do you go to school?"
"Nowhere."