"Yes, Mrs. Flanagan."
"He won't last long, to my thinkin'."
"Do you think he's going to die?" asked Tom, thoughtfully.
"Yes, poor craythur. It's all he can do to drag himself up and down stairs."
"I shall be sorry to have him die," said Tom, "though I don't believe he's any relation to me."
"Isn't he your grandfather, then?" asked Mrs. Flanagan, in surprise.
"No; he never said he was."
"Then what makes the two of you live together? Maybe he's your uncle, though he looks too old for that."
"I don't think he's any relation. All I know is, I've lived with him ever since I was so high."
And Tom indicated with his hand the height of a boy of six.