"Haven't you had any proper food since breakfast?" Tom interposed in a tone of dismay. "No? Oh, this is dreadful—dreadful!"
The sympathy in his voice brought tears to Grace's eyes again, and a sob of self-pity broke from her lips. "Oh, why did Father die and leave me?" she wailed. "Oh, if only I'd some one to go to! Perhaps, if I could find my uncle, he'd be kind to me."
"What uncle?" asked Tom, sharply.
"Father's brother. I've never seen him, but Father used to speak of him sometimes. He was always hoping to run against him somewhere, but he never did."
"What is his name?"
"Moses—Moses Lee."
"Moses Lee!" Tom almost shouted the name in his delight. "Why, Grace, I can take you to him," he said. "That is, I can take you to his caravan, and his wife will look after you."
"You know my Uncle Moses?" questioned Grace, wonderingly.
"Yes! And he's a jolly, kind fellow. He has a wife and a little daughter—younger than you—called Zingra. They've a beautiful yellow and red caravan, and it's at Hatwell Green now. Come, I'll take you to Mrs. Lee. She'll look after you, and when she hears about Hero, I know that, whatever happens, she won't let the Sordellos get hold of you again."
"Where is Hatwell Green?" Grace asked, rising with some difficulty, for her limbs were stiff and aching. An eager light was shining in her dark eyes.