"No one; it grew in me; just as the flowers grow on the plants."

"I have an instructor here, and one I shall find more interesting
than tractable," mused the governess, as she looked upon the child.
But Dawn was not learned in one day, as she afterwards found.

The sun sank behind the hills just as they entered the garden
together. Dawn missed her father too much to be quite up to her
usual point of life, and she went and laid herself down upon a couch
in the library, and chatted away the hour before her bedtime. She
missed him more than she could tell; and then she thought to
herself, "Who can I tell how much I miss my father?"

"Did you ever have any body you loved go away, Miss Vernon?" she at
last ventured to ask, and her voice told what she suffered.

"I have no near friends living, dear child."

"What! did they all die? Only my mamma is dead; but I don't miss
her; I think she must be in the air, I feel her so. Have n't you any
father, Miss Vernon?"

"No. He died when I was quite young, and then my mother, and before
I came here I buried my last near relative-an aunt."

"But aunts don't know us, do they?"

"Why not? I don't quite understand you," she said, wishing to bring
the child out.