There is no news of your uncle. He--he missed the boat. We don't know
where to send a message to him. Try to be content to stay with us until
some of your home people claim you."
"I don't want to be selfish, Anne dear, but I'm not longing for any one
to claim you," said Mrs. Patterson, with a caressing smile. "I didn't
know how dreadfully I needed a little daughter till you came. I don't
want to give you up. How nice it will be some day to have a big daughter
to take care of me!"
Anne looked up with shining, affectionate eyes. "I'm most big now, you
know, Mrs. Patterson," she said. "I'm eight years old and going on nine.
I love to be your girl, but--" her lip quivered--"I do wish I knew where
Uncle Carey was."
"Suppose, Anne, you write to some of your relatives," suggested Miss
Drayton,--"any whose addresses you know. The Aunt Charity you speak of
so often--where does she live? Is she your mother's sister or your
father's?"
Anne's laughter shook the teardrops from her lashes. "Why, Miss
Drayton," she replied, "I thought you knew. Aunt Charity is black. She
was my nurse. She and Uncle Richard--he's her husband--lived with us
from the time I can remember.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43