"Not exactly. He is my son!"
The child lifted a pair of puzzled eyes to the old man's countenance, and, as if in reply to their questioning look, he continued:
"My only son! I've not seen him for fifteen years—ay, fifteen long years! Maybe he's dead by now!"
"Was he lost?" she enquired softly.
"Ay, lost!"
"But how could that be?"
He made no reply, and Una felt with the quick, true instinct of childhood that he did not wish to be questioned further, so she sat very quiet for a few minutes. At last she said:
"Perhaps you will find him again some day! I suppose you pray to God about him, don't you?"
At that moment Nanny broke in upon their conversation.
"Come, Miss Una," she said, "we must be going, for I know we must be taking Mrs. Maple away from her household duties!"