For a few seconds the child regarded him with bated breath. The boys she
had been accustomed to seeing were not of this type, and were more
remarkable for gifts less ornamental than beauty. This boy with his
graceful limbs and haughtily carried head, filled her with awe and
admiration. She admired him so much, that, though her first impulse was
to run away, she did not obey it, and almost immediately he glanced up
and saw her. When this occurred, she was greatly relieved to find that
his gloom did not lead him to treat her unkindly, indeed, he was amiable
enough to address her with an air of one relenting and condescending
somewhat to her youth.

"Didn't you know I was here?" he asked.

"No," Sheba answered, timidly.

"Whom are you looking for?"

"For my Uncle Tom."

He glanced across the street, still keeping his hands in his pockets and
preserving his easy attitude.

"Perhaps he is over there," he suggested.

"Perhaps he is," she replied, and added, shyly, "Are you waiting for
anyone?"

He frowned so darkly at first, that she was quite alarmed and wished that
she had run away as she had at first intended; but he answered, after a
pause:

"No--yes;" he said, "yes--I'm waiting for my father."

He did not even speak as the boys at the Cross-roads spoke. His voice had
a clear, soft ring, and his mode of pronunciation was one Tom had spent
much time in endeavouring to impress upon herself as being more desirable
than that she had heard most commonly used around her. Up to this time
she had frequently wondered why she must speak differently from Mornin
and Molly Hollister, but now she suddenly began to appreciate the wisdom
of his course. It was very much nicer to speak as the boy spoke.

"I haven't any father," she ventured, "or any mother. That's queer, isn't
it?" And as she said it, Mrs. Sparkes's words rushed into her mind again,
and she looked up the street towards the sunset and fell into a momentary
reverie, whispering them to herself.

"What's that you are saying?" asked the boy.

She looked at him with a rather uncertain and troubled expression.

"It was only what they said in there," she replied, pointing towards the
dining-room.

"What did they say?"

She repeated the words slowly, regarding him fixedly, because she
wondered if they would have any effect upon him.

"She died and he went away, nobody knows where. What does it mean?"

"I don't know," he admitted, staring at her with his hand