“Not your grandfather?” echoed Mrs. Gregory, in surprise.
“No. He is not even an old man. He only dressed himself up so when he came here.”
“And what made him do that?”
“Because he thought you would pity him, and be more ready to take me.”
“Is he any relation to you?”
“I thought he was my uncle,” returned Helen, “until he came here last time. Then he told me that he was no relation.”
“Where are your relations?”
“I don’t know,” said Helen, thoughtfully. “I suppose I must have had some once; but I can’t remember any thing about them. I have lived with my—I mean Mr. Armstrong, ever since I can recollect.”
“And what was it he wanted you to do? Why was he so anxious to have you come here?”