"I don't know," said the newsboy, "I never thought much about it till mother died. I wish she had been buried here. I think it would be a comfort to me. Poor mother! she had a hard life;" and he sighed. "I want Rose to have a happier one."
"Let us hope she will. Have you heard anything of Mr. Martin lately?"
She carefully avoided using the word "stepfather" for she had observed that even this recognition of relationship was distasteful to the boy, who had imbibed a bitter prejudice against the man who had wrecked his mother's happiness, and undoubtedly abridged her life by several years.
"No, I have not seen him since the day after I took Rose away from Leonard Street. I think he cannot be in the city, or he would have come round to where I was selling papers. I expected he would be round before to ask me for some money."
"What do you think has become of him?"
"Maybe he has gone back into the country. I hope he has, for I should feel safer about Rose."
Here the conversation closed for the time. They rambled on without any particular aim, wherever fancy dictated. They came upon most of the notable monuments, including that of the sea-captain, and that of Miss Canda, the young heiress, who, dying by a violent accident, with no one to inherit her wealth, it was decided that it should all be expended upon a costly monument, which has ever since been one of the chief ornaments of the cemetery.
At length they began to think of returning, but had some difficulty at first in finding their way to the gate, so perplexing is the maze of paths.
"I don't know but we shall have to stay here all night," said Rufus. "How should you like that, Rose?"
"I wouldn't care," said the little girl. "I think the grass would make a nice soft bed."