He looked away.
"Isn't I?" I demanded.
"No, lad," he answered; "you isn't."
'Twas the first step he had led me from dependence upon him. 'Twas as
though he had loosened my hand a little from its confident clasp of
his own. I was alarmed.
"Many's the lad," said he, "that thinks he've his mother; an' many's
the mother that thinks she've her lad. But yet they is both alone--all
alone. 'Tis the queerest thing in the world."
"But, Uncle Nick, I _haves_ you!"
"No," he persisted; "you is all alone. Why, Lord! Dannie, you is
'leven. What does I know about _you_?"
Not enough.
"An' what does _you_ know about _me_?"