“Who are you? And how dare you come in here now?”
“And who are you?” returned Gordon.
“I’m Madelaine Theddon—Mrs. Theddon’s daughter!”
The lid of the boy’s bad eye flopped twice.
“You’re who?” he cried, amazed.
“I’m Mrs. Theddon’s daughter, I told you——”
“Tell that to the Marines! Aunt Gracia hasn’t got a daughter. Unless——” Being naturally low-minded, the alternative occurred to him promptly.
“But I am, I tell you! She adopted me—four years ago. And please go out till I’m dressed.”
Gordon laughed coarsely and licked his lips.
“Adopted you, did she? That’s a good one. She never told us about it.”