"When's he coming back?"
The question this time was still harder to answer.
"He's never coming back . . . never till I . . . go for him. He was sick a long time . . . until God had pity on him and took him home."
"Are you going for him tonight?" asked Bobby in that new, diffident voice.
"No, dear. I can't go for a long, long time."
"Not till he gets growed up?"
The Lady Who Likes Little Boys put a handkerchief to her eyes before she answered.
"Not . . . not till God sends for me."
Bobby remained silent till his eyes fell on the box of marbles.