"No," she said, "of course not."
She considered for a few moments. Then she said: "Bubbles, I'm going to tell you my reason. I hope I'm not doing wrong. It's a serious thing for me to tell you and for you to know. There is very little doubt but that Blizzard is your father."
"Say that again, please," said Bubbles.
"Blizzard is probably your father."
Bubbles took the news very coolly. His eyes sparkled; but he made no exclamations of surprise or chagrin. Instead he said: "That accounts for it."
"Accounts for what?"
"Oncet he caught me in his house. He said the next time he'd skin me alive. If I hadn't been his son he'd a skun me that time. Do you get me, Miss Barbara? He's my father, sure. But--" Now chagrin, wonder, and perplexity were written in Bubbles's face. "Why," he said, "it makes everything different. He never done anything for me; but if he's my father--"
"You can't very well spy on him, can you, Bubbles? You've got to stand aside and leave all that to others."
"I got to see the Head, Miss Barbara. I got to ask him."
"Who is the head, Bubbles?"