"I—I was told to-day," gulped poor Big Chief, "that I am an adopted child."
Mrs. Devering laughed shrilly. "Good gracious! am I dreaming?"
I took a few steps nearer. The little woman was terribly upset. I had never seen her lose self-control before. Not his mother? Why every drop of blood in her body proclaimed this boy to be her son.
The lad was completely bewildered. "Tell me," he cried, "am I, am I really your son? Is that my father?"
"If he is not your father than he is not my husband," she exclaimed.
"Tell me truly," begged the boy, "did you not pick me out of the gutter? Am I not a nobody?"
The two grown persons saw that the boy was in deadly earnest, and I think they were relieved for his running away had given them a terrible shock.
"What would convince you, my poor darling?" asked Mrs. Devering.
"Tell me whether you have an adopted child."
She looked at her husband. "Shall we tell him?"