"Not to-day."
"Who cleans it?"
"Mother."
And at that a frown passed over Jason's face in the darkness. The boys were thinly clad, both were barelegged and barefooted. Plainly they were brothers, one of them being less than twelve years of age, and the other as young as nine.
"What's your father?"
"Father's dead," said the lad.
"Where do you live with your mother?"
"Down on the shore yonder, below the silversmith's."
"The little house behind the Missions, in front of the vats?"
"Yes, sir, do you know it?"