"There was our Sally, but she died before mother."
"Nobody else?"
"There's my big brother Tom—but I mustn't tell you about him."
"Mustn't tell me about him? Why not?"
"He's so wicked."
The answer was so unexpected that Lancelot could not help laughing, and Mary Ann flushed to the roots of her hair.
"Why, what has he done?" said Lancelot, composing his mouth to gravity.
"I don't know; I was only six. Father told me it was something very dreadful, and Tom had to run away to America, and I mustn't mention him any more. And mother was crying, and I cried because Tom used to give me tickey-backs and go black-berrying with me and our little Sally; and everybody else in the village they seemed glad, because they had said so all along, because Tom would never go to church, even when a little boy."
"I suppose then you went to church regularly?"
"Yessir. When I was at home, I mean."