"Dead."
"Oh!" with awkward sympathy.
"Long time ago, when I was little."
"Do you remember him?"
"If I shut my eyes tight. It's like he was walking to meet me, out of the big picture."
"And your mother—" Pat hesitated.
"I remember her real well. I was seven then. That was over a year ago. Sometimes it seems such a little while since we were at home—and then it seems a long, long, long time."
"You've been living with your uncle since?" asked Miss Drayton, gently.
"Yes. Uncle Carey. Where is he? I do want Uncle Carey so bad." The child's voice trembled.
"Don't worry, dear. We'll find him," said Miss Drayton, as they left the dining-room.