"She is dead."
"Do you remember her?"
"A little."
"Have you a papa?"
"My papa is a very bad man. He treated poor mamma very badly."
"Who told you this?" demanded Hartley, frowning. "Was it Mrs. Mordaunt?"
"No; it was auntie."
"I thought this was some of Harriet Vernon's work," said Hartley to himself. "It seems like my amiable sister-in-law. She might have been in better business than poisoning my child's mind against me."
"Who else lives with you?" he asked, partly out of curiosity, but mainly to occupy the child's mind, so that she might not be fully conscious of the lapse of time.
"My brother Dan."