"Dot," said the child; "and home is goned away on wheels, and uncle don't want me no more."
"Uncle," repeated Tom reflectively. "Then have you no mother or father, little one?"
"Never had none of these things," said Dot positively. "Some of the other children had, though," she added, as if for the sake of accuracy.
"What other children?" Tom asked with interest.
"Them as was with us in the van," said Dot.
"Did you live in a van, Dot?" inquired Tom.
"Yes," said the child, "the van as has runned away. There's baskets and chairs and things all over the top of it. Uncle said he was agoing to leave me somewhere, and now he's done it."
"How old are you, Dot?"
The child shook her head. "I didn't have no birfdays," she said wistfully. "Ned and Polly and Jim did, but not me."
"Little Dot," cried Tom, hugging the small creature, "so they wanted to get rid of you, did they! Well, you shall come home with me; and, Dot, you shall begin to have birthdays to-morrow!"