mamma and the days when she had sat sewing upon it. The very tucks in its skirt seemed to bring that dear presence nearer, and she reflected that they were absent from each other only till such time as poor papa should get quite well. She appeared below, saying:
"Now I'm good, Uncle Joe. Forgive me for being bad. I'll sing again if you want me."
"Of course I want you. Maybe I was a bit stern, too, little lady. I hope this wretched pain will leave me by to-morrow, then I'll be able to think of something else besides that hateful foot."
"Poor foot!" she exclaimed.
"Now sing, if you will."
Josephine tried, but it was altogether another sort of voice which essayed "Old Lang Syne" from that which had warbled it so sweetly earlier in the day; so that she was promptly bidden to give over the attempt, Mr. Smith adding:
"You're as hoarse as a raven. A few more such rough plays with a parcel of boys and
