"She's dead."
"And your father?"
"Kilt!" said Molly. "'T least I reckon he was. Mrs. O'Meath says he was. I don't know whether he's dead or not."
Mildred's eyes opened wide. The idea of any one not knowing whether or not her father was living!
"Who is Mrs. O'Meath?" she asked.
"She's the lady 't takes care of me."
"Your nurse?"
"N—I don't know. She ain't my mother."
"Well, she don't take very good care of you, I think," said Mildred, looking around with an air of disapproval.
"Oh! she's drunk to-day," explained Molly, busily eating her bread.