Mr. Smith was hopelessly distressed. He didn't know what to say or do, and this proved most fortunate for both of them. For whatever he might have said would have puzzled his visitor as greatly as she was puzzling him. Happily for both, the deluge of tears was soon over, and Josephine lifted a face on which the smiles seemed all the brighter because of the moisture that still bedewed it.
"Please 'xcuse me, Uncle Joe. I didn't mean to cry once, but it—it's so lovely to have you at last. It was a long, long way on the railway, uncle. Rudanthy got terribly tired," explained the visitor.
"Did she? Who is Rudanthy?"
"You, my uncle, yet don't know Rudanthy, that has been mine ever since I was? Mamma says she has to change heads now and then, and once in awhile she buys her a new pair of feet or hands; but it's the same darling dolly, whether her head's new or old. I'll fetch her. It's time she waked up, anyway."
Josephine sped to the rug before the grate,
