While breakfast was being served, Pat Patterson gave and obtained a good
deal of information. He told Anne that he was from Washington, the
finest city in the world. He learned that she called Virginia home,
though she lived now in New York. Pat was going to spend a year in
France with his mother and Aunt Sarah. Uncle Carey, with whom Anne was
travelling, had told her nothing of his plans except that he and she
were going "abroad" and were to "have a grand time" on "the Continent."
Pat's father was to come over later for a few weeks; he was down south
now, helping build the "big ditch"--the Panama Canal. "Where is your
father?" he asked Anne.
"Dead."
"Oh!" with awkward sympathy.
"Long time ago, when I was little."
"Do you remember him?"
"If I shut my eyes tight. It's like he was walking to meet me, out of
the big picture."
"And your mother--" Pat hesitated.
"I remember her real well. I was seven then. That was over a year ago.
Sometimes it seems such a little while since we were at home--and then
it seems a long, long, long time."
"You've been living with your uncle since?" asked Miss Drayton, gently.
"Yes. Uncle Carey. Where is he? I do want Uncle Carey so bad.
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