"Of course; and it's such a lovely home, and you are so fond of it, no
one need wonder at your coming in the middle of the day."

The sentence was sarcastic enough, but the tones were hardly so; they
expressed too much indifference even for sarcasm.

Dirk surveyed her thoughtfully; he seemed to have no answer ready. In
fact, his face wore almost a startled air, and really the thought which
presented itself for consideration was startling. Something about the
face of the girl, done up so grotesquely in her ragged quilt, suggested
the lady who had been his teacher at the Mission! Could one find a
sharper contrast than existed between these two? Yet Dirk, as he looked,
could not get away from it.

"What are you staring at?" the girl asked, presently, growing uneasy over
the fixedness of his gaze. "Do you see anything uncommon about me?"

"Where's mother?" he asked, dropping his eyes, and turning from her.

"In there, asleep. You needn't talk quite so loud; it won't hurt her to
get a bit of rest. She sat up till morning, poking at your old coat."

Dirk looked down at it thoughtfully. There had been an attempt to make
it decent, although the setting of the patches showed an unpractised
hand, and they were of a strikingly different color from the coat
itself.

"You might have done it for her, then, in the daytime," he said, briefly,
and added, "Where's father?"