Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. Was he your natural father? Did you know him?” “No, I didn’t. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. My late husband, I mean. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there.
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