“You never met anyone quite the same, did you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where is your father?” she questioned suddenly.
“I don’t think I ever had one,” I answered.
“Not a father? But whom does your mother live with?”
“I have no mother.”
“No mother? Oh, dear!” and she turned her head away and dashed away a tear. But I laughed, the sympathy was so unexpected and, I thought, unnecessary.
“You need not cry about it. Never having known them I have never missed them.”
“Yes, you have,” she cried, and with a sudden vehemence quite out of keeping with her looks. “When you have no father nor mother there’s a big blank, though you may try to think there isn’t.”
“What do you know about it?” said I, still laughing.