"Yes, sir."
"Got no father nor mother?"
Another, equally idiotic; but my interest in the boy had been inspired by the idea of the saving of valuable minutes. As long as he stood outside in the snow, he was an obstruction. Once aboard, I could take my time in solving his difficulties.
"Got a father, sir, but my mother's dead."
We were now whirling up the street, the cab lighting up and growing pitch dark by turns, depending on the location of the street lamps.
"Where's your father?"
"Went away, sir." He spoke the words without the slightest change in his voice, neither abashed nor too bold, but with a simple straightforwardness which convinced me of their truth.
"Do you want to go to the asylum?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"