"He's no better," she said in a low tone, "and I'm sore afraid he'll never be no better."
"It's horrid without Noel," said little Margery, as she sprang lightly on to the top of a pile of big lexicons and then back again to the floor. "I can't play alone, and Jane does not know how to play properly. Besides, we must not make a noise."
She stood for a moment with a troubled look on her pretty pink and white face. Then, as she looked up at the old bookseller, a new idea occurred to her.
"Had you ever a little brother or sister to play with you, Mr. Betts?—when you were a little boy, I mean. Of course it's a very long time ago."
"Well, yes, miss, I had a little brother once; but, as you say, it's a long time ago."
"Then I suppose he is grown-up now. Where is he?"
"I don't know, miss."
"You don't know?" repeated the child in amazement. "You don't know where your brother is?"
The face of old Betts flushed as he caught the surprise in her tones.
"It's true, missy; I don't know where he is. Maybe he is dead; but I can't say."