It had been three weeks since I'd last seen my sister. And while a break of that length from Aunt Agatha was appreciated, I missed my sibling more than I'd expected. Angela was three years younger than I and as such was unable to climb trees and skip stones in the pond with the same dexterity.
I'd also had bad dreams the past three nights. When I woke up the fourth night in a row I saw a candle in the doorway.
"Bertie?"
"Uncle Tom?" I heard his feet approach my bed.
"My mother and father died when I was a young boy, too." he said simply. I looked at him with my mouth hanging open for a few more seconds before hurling myself at the foot of the bed into his open arms.