- danthy. Poor Rudanthy! How bad she must
feel without any face. That's worse than having a sore foot, isn't it?" as she heaped the coverings over the gouty toes.
"Far worse. Only waxen faces are not subject to pain."
"I s'pose not. Now, Uncle Joe, would you like me to sing to you?"
"Can you sing?"
"'Course. Mamma sings beautifully. She is the leader in our choir. My papa says she makes him think of angels when she sings. I don't sing like her. Course not. But I can do some things, if you like me to."
"What about the trunk, Josephine? Though I really think you would better leave it packed pretty nearly as it is, since"—
"Uncle Joe, I've been thinking about that other uncle we've lost. If he isn't nice, and mamma will let me, I'll stay with you."
He did not dampen her spirits by suggesting that she would better wait for him to ask her to stay, and merely answered:
