“Daniel Hawkins,” repeated Leo, leaping to his feet in astonishment.
“Yes. Why, you act as if you knew him,” returned Mart.
“Know him? Well, I rather guess I do,” returned the young gymnast bitterly.
“Oh, I am so glad!”
“And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“You need expect nothing from your uncle, Mart.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” and the boy grew pale.
“I might as well be plain with you, even if it does hurt. There is no use in building up false hopes.”
“You must know my uncle well.”