Patterson, carelessly. "She is in an
orphan asylum in Virginia. I put her there the week we landed."
Pat started to his feet. "In an orphan asylum?" he gasped. He knew
asylums only through the experiences of Oliver Twist, and if his father
had said "in jail," the words would not have excited more horror.
"Of course," replied his father, viewing his emotion with surprise.
"That was where she belonged. We couldn't find any of her own people.
Why, son! You didn't expect me to keep her, did you?"
"Mother intended that. She said Anne was my--little--sister." The boy
found it difficult to speak.
"Your mother! If she had lived--but without her--be reasonable, Pat.
How could you and I--we rolling stones--take charge of a little girl?
And now--"
"There is Aunt Sarah," interrupted Pat, refusing to be convinced. "Or
school. I thought you had her in boarding-school like me. Where is she?"
Mr. Patterson was just going to tell Pat about Anne and her whereabouts.
But now he was provoked that his son put the question, not as a request,
but as a demand. He spoke sternly. "You forget yourself, Patrick. It is
not your place to take me to task for pursuing the course that I thought
proper in this matter.
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