[He looks at her curiously.]
ROBERT. Like your . . .
MARY. Yes--they're his brothers, you know.
This is Uncle William's house.
ROBERT. Yes, but what do you know about. . .
MARY. About Uncle Joshua? Well, I happen to know a good deal more
than I can say. It's a secret.
ROBERT. S'pose your _Uncle William_ spoke to you about 'im?
MARY. Well, yes. Uncle William spoke about him, too.
ROBERT. But never about your father?
MARY. Oh no, never.
ROBERT. Why, miss?
MARY [slowly]. I--don't--know.
ROBERT. P'r'aps 'e ain't--good enough--to be--to be the brother of
your Uncle William--and-- Uncle--Joshua--eh, miss?
MARY. Oh, I can't think that!
ROBERT. Why not, miss? Three good brothers in a family don't
scarcely seem possible--not as families go--do they, miss?
MARY. You mustn't talk like that! A father must be much--much
better than anybody else!
ROBERT. But s'pose, miss--s'pose 'e ain't . . .
MARY. He is! I know it! Why, that's what I'm wishing! . . .
ROBERT. P'r'aps it ain't altogether 'is fault, miss! .
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