"No, ma'am."

"But, wasn't your mother--anywhere?"

"Oh, yes, in father's pocket."

"Your MOTHER--in your father's POCKET!"

So plainly aghast was the questioner that David looked not a
little surprised as he explained.

"You don't understand. She is an angel-mother, and angel-mothers
don't have anything only their pictures down here with us. And
that's what we have, and father always carried it in his pocket."

"Oh----h," murmured Mrs. Holly, a quick mist in her eyes. Then,
gently: "And did you always live there--on the mountain?"

"Six years, father said."

"But what did you do all day? Weren't you ever--lonesome?"

"Lonesome?" The boy's eyes were puzzled.

"Yes. Didn't you miss things--people, other houses, boys of your
own age, and--and such things?"

David's eyes widened.