The boy still smiled, but a wistfulness came into his eyes. He slowly shook his head.
“Dead, is he?” asked the man more as if thinking aloud. But the boy shook his head again.
“No, no father,” he answered simply.
“Oh,” said the man, and a lump gathered in his throat. “Your mother?”
“No mother, never!” came the solemn answer. It seemed that he scarcely felt that either of these were deep lacks in his assets. Very likely fathers and mothers were not on the average desirable kindred in the neighborhood from which he came. The man reflected and tried again.
“Who are your folks? They’ll be worried about you. We ought to send them word you’re doing well?”
The boy looked amazed, then a laugh rippled out.
“No folks,” he gurgled, “on’y jest de kids.”
“Your brothers and sisters?” asked Endicott puzzled.
“None o’ dem,” said Mikky. “Buck an’ me’re pards. We fights fer de other kids.”