“No; I’ve asked him more’n once. He always says he’s my father, and that makes me mad.”
“It is strange,” said Florence, thoughtfully. “I had a young cousin stolen many years ago.”
“Was it the son of the old gentleman you lived with on Madison Avenue?”
“Yes; it was the son of Uncle John. It quite broke him down. After my cousin’s loss he felt that he had nothing to live for.”
“I wish I was your cousin, Florence,” said Dodger, thoughtfully.
“Well, then, I will adopt you as my cousin, or brother, whichever you prefer!”
“I would rather be your cousin.”
“Then cousin let it be! Now we are bound to each other by strong and near ties.”
“But when your uncle takes you back you’ll forget all about poor Dodger.”
“No, I won’t, Dodger. There’s my hand on it. Whatever comes, we are friends forever.”