Again he had no answer for her, and Golden cried out reproachfully:
"Grandpa, grandpa, why did you suffer her to be so wicked?"
"It was through no fault of mine," he answered heavily.
She looked at him in silent anguish a moment, then she asked him:
"Where is she? Tell me where to find her, if you know."
"John told me she was in New York the last time he heard of her; but that was years ago. I pray God that she may be dead ere this."
And then he wrung his hands, and the tears rolled down his withered cheeks.
"Oh, my lost little daughter, my precious little Golden," he moaned in agony. "How little I dreamed in your innocent babyhood that you were reserved for such a fate!"
Golden was regarding him attentively.
"Uncle John told you she was in New York," she said. "What did Uncle John know? Did he hate my mother as he hates me?"