he piled for her on the wide sofa and sighed luxuriously, answering:
"It's lovely. This is the nicest place I ever, ever saw."
"Thank you. Now, child, tell me something about other places you remember, and, also, please tell me your name."
Josephine was surprised. What a very short memory this uncle had, to be sure. It wouldn't be polite to say so, though, and it was an easy question to answer.
"My name is Josephine Smith. I'm named after you, you know, 'cause you're my papa's twin. I'm sent to you because"—and she went on to explain the reasons, so far as she understood them, of her long journey and her presence in his house. She brought her coat and showed him, neatly sewed inside its flap, a square of glazed holland on which was written her name, to whom consigned, and the express company by which she had been "specially shipped and delivered."
It was all plain and straightforward. This was the very house designated on the tag, and
