distinctive, handsome nose and mouth and violet eyes shaded by their long black lashes.
"How do you like being related to people?" he inquired.
Peewee hesitated. He had been perfectly contented on the streets before he had learned who his parents were. Mostly misfortune had come to him from that discovery; but he recollected that except for it he would not have met Mrs. Markyn.
"Who?" he inquired.
"Well, Ben Lampert—he's your grandfather, ain't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"What do you think of him?"
Peewee violently shook his head. He did not at once find the words to express his intense dislike for the ex-barn boss.
"How about Walter Markyn?"
Peewee did not know; he felt antagonism without resentment toward his father.
"You look like him, you know."
"Yes, sir," Peewee replied.
