"Not yet, Nance," and Martin's voice was low. "You must stay with me for a while. But tell me about them, little one, for I never knew them."
"You didn't know my daddy and mamma!" and Nance lifted her head and looked straight into her guardian's eyes. "Isn't that funny," and she gave a queer little chuckle. "My daddy was big and so strong that he could carry me everywhere. He played with me, too, and we had such fun. Mamma used to tell me stories, such nice ones, and she always kissed me when I went to bed. I wonder where she can be."
"Do you like stories, Nance?" Martin asked.
"Oh, yes. I like nice ones about fairies. Mamma often told me about Alice in Wonderland. Do you know that? It is so pretty. I'll get mamma to tell it to you some day."
A lump came into Martin's throat as he listened to the prattle of this child. How could he ever tell her that she would never see her dear parents on earth again? Would it not be as well for her to know the whole truth now? But no, it would be better to wait for some time until she was older. A sudden idea came into his mind.
"Look, Nance, suppose we play that I am your daddy, and that your mamma is sitting right here by our side."
"Oh, yes," Nance was ready for the game, "and I'll call you 'daddy,' and we'll talk to mamma, and make believe that she's right here."
How often in the past in his old parish had Martin pictured to himself a scene similar to this. It had all been so real: an open fire, a child on his knee, and Beryl by his side. He closed his eyes, while a sigh escaped his lips.
"Daddy." He started at the name. "Are you sleepy? Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"